


SotP Tales - Prelude to Twilight

by SLotH4, Xabiar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games), Star Wars Legends: Legacy (Comics), Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Force Visions, Jedi, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, The Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2020-05-16 14:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 98,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19319983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLotH4/pseuds/SLotH4, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xabiar/pseuds/Xabiar
Summary: The Force whispers to those who hear its call. It offers glimpses of the future and past, of possibility and certainty, of truth and deception. But the Force is fickle, and the insight it offers can drive men mad and attract the eye of things best hidden. In the midst of a polarized Jedi Order on the brink of ruin, Daniel Skywalker seeks guidance only the Force can provide.





	1. Dagobah - Vision of Deception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xabiar’s Note: The idea for this, like quite a few others, came while I was writing something else. The dossier of Daniel Skywalker raised quite a few questions as to the circumstances of his departure from the Jedi Council, and focused on his final odyssey across the galaxy. This series will answer the questions raised by his journey – some of them at least – and bring to light many secrets, powers, and agendas of those whose legacy still lingers in the galaxy, and through the Force.

** SotP Tales - Prelude to Twilight **

* * *

PART I

_ Dagobah - Vision of Deception _

* * *

If Dagobah proved one thing, it was that even the most unassuming and backwater planet could be a haven for the Force. Irrespective of if one believed it had a will or not, few could deny that this remote swamp world had been home to some important moments, of which few knew about, and many more wouldn’t believe.

Daniel Skywalker had been to this planet many times before. It was relaxing and fascinating to walk this small planet and listen. Echoes – so often impossible to hear on bustling worlds of life – and sound stood out with sharp clarity if one knew where to look. A window into the past he was privileged to see.

The cockpit of the X-wing hissed open and the foul stench of the swamp soon overwhelmed everything else. Wrinkling his nose, he stood and – with a swiftness that defied his age – jumped to the ground and landed with a muffled squish of mulch and mud. He grimaced as some swamp water splashed onto his pants.

There were aspects of this planet he would never appreciate. The sweltering humidity and grime in particular were going to make cleaning his starship later a chore, and also ensured that R2 despised this planet as well. On cue, the droid warbled from the astromech slot on the X-wing, clear disgust cutting through his sequence of beeps and electronic squeals.

He couldn’t blame the droid. “You can always stay there. I won’t mind.”

The raspberry shot in response made him grin.

“Alright, but no more complaining.”

R2-D2 warbled, but it was a resigned sound, if slightly bitter. As the droid was lowered to the ground, Daniel took a moment to listen to his surroundings. The sounds of insects; the screeching of mynocks; even the bubbling from life under the green water coalesced into a symphony of a healthy swamp environment.

Good. Nothing else was around.

It had been something he’d learned very early on when traveling to worlds strong in the Force – listen to the surroundings. The swamp unconsciously reacted to the Force, irrespective of light and dark. Everything would become unnaturally quiet as life became subservient to the power; sometimes lulling it into a trance; other times turning it violent. When he went closer to the cave, he knew this phenomenon would await him.

That is, unless someone decided to visit first.

R2 warbled a question.

“I’m not sure,” Daniel admitted as they began walking the mushy ground; bootprints and wheel tracks marking their path, “but the last time I was drawn this strongly… well, you know. I changed. Maybe it will happen again.”

A concerned string of beeps answered.

“For the better, I’m sure,” Daniel reassured, patting his dome. “The Force called me here. It still is. I suppose we’ll have to see what it has in store.”

The droid’s dome ‘head’ turned, and the cylinder body indicated his belt – or rather, what  _wasn’t_  on it – with a questioning warble.

“I don’t think I’ll need it,” Daniel answered, “If it becomes dangerous, I can protect myself. The nexus has only grown stronger.”

While it was something he couldn’t empirically confirm, he was certain he was correct. Force nexuses were something that the Order was wary of exploring, and he was one of the few to visit them with some degree of regularity. One of the more interesting theories he had considered was that Force nexuses gradually grew larger as time went on, or when a calamity happened.

Of course, it seemed to vary depending on the planet.

Yoda’s death had amplified the nexus on this planet, and had turned it from one dominated by the dark side to one more… benign. Perhaps it was not that the nexus had grown more powerful, but that it had grown more…  _complete_. This question bore more investigation, perhaps one of the last initiatives he starts. Undien would bluster about potential ‘corruption,’ but Daniel was beyond his concern anymore. Undien would do what he felt was right, regardless of the truth or lack thereof.

The end result from an arrogance of one who devoted themselves to personal power. An infectious disease that poisoned everyone around him.

It hurt to see what was happening to the Jedi.

Worse still was that no solution existed that would not lead to further pain and conflict. He’d pondered every contingency; he’d spoken with thousands of Jedi from Orthodox to Isolationist. There was simply no way there could be a universal solution. It was tempting to just  _leave_ ; retire, and become one with the Force.

Leave it to the next generation to solve.

It was the easiest solution, but not the right one. Of that he was certain.

_There is a solution. There is a way. I just have to find it._

Maybe this little odyssey would show him what to do. The Force had shown him the truth before, perhaps it would again. If not… then he would have to think long and hard about what to do next.

However, this was not the time. The Force had yet to let him down and this would not be the first time.

R2 beeped, and Daniel nodded after listening for several seconds. “It  _is_  quieter.”

The swamp, which at first had been dark and gloomy was growing more…  _comfortable_. The shrill sounds of wildlife had lapsed into a comfortable silence; the mist changed from a sweltering humidity into a warm glow like from an oven on a cold day. The air seemed crisp and sharp, with the foul swamp being replaced by native scents of flowers. Daniel felt his awareness expand to feeling every insect and animal around him – creatures he knew he could dominate in moments.

This was the Force at its most pure. A power flowing through life around him; a power he could draw from or use in an instant. Stepping into the nucleus of the nexus was a comforting and familiar feeling; like wading into a warm pool of water. Though by now he knew that at least some of it was an illusion; a showcase of the duality of the Force.

R2 beeped expectantly at him as they reached the destination and faced the heart of the planet; an opening that swallowed all light, revealing nothing but pure darkness. Luke Skywalker had once described the cave containing the nexus as ‘evil,’ with the vegetation seeming to reflect this. Half-rotting vines which had overgrown the entrance, with insects consuming dead animals before it; the smell of death emanating from the mouth, promising a nightmare for all who entered, as color was sucked from the vicinity.

He wondered if Luke had been wrong, or if the cave had evolved afterwards. While he held a great respect for his ancestor, he was not correct on every aspect of the Force. Luke had been a believer in the separate duality of the Force, with two distinct sides. One light, one dark. One good, one corruptive. Whereas Daniel had a…  _broader_  view.

The cave reflected the expectations of those who entered it. He wondered if Yoda had known this.

_“What’s in there?”_

_“Only what you take with you.”_

Luke had interpreted this as his weapons, but Daniel now believed it was more than that. It was his expectations, his hopes, his fears, his loves and hatreds; his biases and beliefs. Luke Skywalker had expected to enter a cave of evil, and that was exactly what he had received. A dark vision of his future; a warning exposing the darkness within himself.

But Daniel saw the cave as an expression of the Force. Not light or dark, but a source of power teetering on the edge between them. A warm embrace hiding the allure of the shadow within. He saw an entrance at the mouth of the void, but surrounding it was lush green vines with flowers and other life growing on them.

A thin sheet of grass and broken twigs blanketed the ground, with small rodents and critters running across. But none of them went near the entrance. The world seemed brighter around the cave, which made the sheer  _blackness_  of the entrance all the more unsettling.

He rested his good hand on the dome of his loyal droid. “Wait here.”

R2 beeped nervously.

“Don’t worry,” he assured the droid, letting the Force flow through him completely, “I shouldn’t be long.”

As he reached the mouth of shadow, he paused briefly, then stepped into the void.

* * *

In visions, one never knew what to expect. Sometimes, very little changed; sometimes, everything did.

This appeared to be the latter.

Daniel walked in the darkness for only a few seconds before the lighting turned dim, then bright, and he found himself in an oddly familiar setting. He scratched his chin as he looked around in what appeared to be his chambers on Ossus. Initially, everything seemed in order with some slight variations; a half-made bed for two, a nightstand with a lightsaber and datapad on it, a dresser that held his robes. But something immediately felt off.

It was not quite a hum, but an imperceptible sound that made everything around him seem surreal. Too lucid to be a dream, but too…  _light_  to be real. An odd artificial buoyancy; almost like that of a psychedelic drug where one retained their senses. A thoroughly odd sensation, though one he had experienced in visions before.

He called the lightsaber to his hand and immediately realized it could not be his. It did not fit in his hand at all; and was, in fact, clearly designed for a hand smaller and more delicate than his. A glance back to the bed and a curious idea took shape.

_Lara…?_

She would never design a lightsaber, but as he looked closer at it, he could see some touches that could clearly only come from her. Her family name, her favorite colors, yet those seemed… minor compared to what else he saw.

This lightsaber looked like it had been designed by an alien that thought it was Lara. Unknown markings and styles were integrated into the design, and he could instinctively tell it was designed for a form that Lara did not practice. Though her having a lightsaber at all was wrong, much less one that she could not use effectively.

Growing more uneasy he ignited the blade. A red-orange blade sprung out; unlike any lightsaber color he had seen before. The hum was deeper, drawing him to stare into a core which shifted from red to orange to black…

A shrouded face with twin glowing yellow eyes stared from the core of the blade accompanied with a rush of air.

Daniel instantly threw the lightsaber away and it clattered into the wall, deactivating instantly. He stared at it warily, cautiously. He felt a rush of power and the lightsaber flew toward him and affixed itself on his belt. He pursed his lips and placed a hand on it to take it off, and jerked his hand back as his glove smoked, as if he had touched a red-hot iron.

A test then. Pushing the pain away, he gripped the lightsaber, ignoring the red-hot fire and directed crushing energy to the blade to shatter the hilt and crystal within. Several agonizing seconds later, the pain vanished, and he watched the lightsaber crumble to dust. His glove essentially ruined, he took it off and pursed his lips at the raw flesh.

 _Clearly a metaphorical vision_ , he thought grimly as he applied some bacta to the palm,  _Wonderful._

That finished, he walked to the dresser and opened it up. He was grateful he did so, as he saw he wouldn’t exactly fit in if he left this room as he was dressed now. The clothing inside were almost nothing like what he was wearing now. Instead of the traditional tan, brown, or black robes they were instead a shimmering white-silver. A touch confirmed that they were made from a silk-like substance instead of cloth.

What caught his interest was what was embroidered on them. An emblem he did not recognize was stitched in red along the shoulders, while golden characters were placed on the sleeves and chest. It had to be ceremonial, as there were components for actual armor set right beside it. This robe also had a higher collar, no hood, and a cape of all things. Definitely not Jedi robes.

The embroidered characters though… he blinked in surprise as he took a closer look. None of it made sense. It was a mixture of  _ancient_  languages… so it seemed. He saw Old Tythonian, Gree, Sithese, Rakatan, and a few others even older than that he had barely passing knowledge in. None of which should go together, yet were arranged in such a way as to barely provide a stitched together translation.

What he put together chilled him.

**_DANIEL SKYWALKER – HIGH SHADOW OF THE ASCENDANT_ **

That he had a role in this vision was not a comfort. While it was possible it was a mistranslation, he did not like the implications of such a title. The individuals he had passively sensed around him – initially assuming were Jedi – now he wondered if they were something else. There was only one way to learn – proceed further, and to do so, he had to blend in.

Changing into the foreign robes, he stepped outside, and into an occupation.

Ossus had never been the most opulent of the Jedi Praxeums. While it had been restored from its previous destruction, it was rather plain; with only simple stone architecture and minor decorations, mostly of plants and waterfalls. Modest lighting had illuminated it; all to emphasize a focus on serving the Force the Jedi were presumed to hold.

 _The lies we tell ourselves,_  Daniel mused as he thought about how few Jedi actually believed that these days; himself included.

Right now, it didn’t matter, as the Ossus Praxeum in this vision had clearly been overhauled into something else.

Bright yellow lighting illuminated the hallways which had received additions of stone statues of Jedi of various species with lightsabers raised over those who walked underneath. Something was horribly wrong with the statues however, as the heads were not simple, but a graphic mixture of two heads of various species fused together, with the faces morphed into clear, bright smiles. Banners with gibberish of the mixture of languages he had seen hung from the walls. More hung under the ceiling, and a red and golden rug extended through the center of the hallway.

The Force hummed around him, growing more intense now that he had stepped deeper into this vision. Aside from the spectacle, what most caught his eye were the soldiers who stood as… guards? They didn’t appear to be hostile, but stood along the hallway interspersed, as well as the entrances of his quarters and to the common area of the temple.

While he could not tell for certain… these guards seemed familiar; their posture, stance, and equipment triggered something in his memory. Their armor was unknown, of course. White and heavy, with an alien emblem emblazoned in gold on their armor with what looked like a modified Chiss Ascendancy emblem on the opposite side. Was that what they were supposed to be? Unfortunately, he couldn’t see their faces to confirm.

Further confused, he began walking and the soldiers immediately fell to one knee in submission. Daniel tried not to act like this was a surprise to him, but he didn’t know how he  _did_  act here. No one stopped him, so he continued onward, not wanting to raise suspicion. Many more questions arose as he entered the commons; completely uncertain as to what would happen next.

As he stepped into it, he felt a perceptible shift in the vision. The Force grew unnaturally strong around him; everything seemed heightened; a clarity in a way that was impossible to ignore. The intangible  _wrongness_  which had started as a seed when he had entered, had sprouted tenfold now, and he soon saw why.

The commons were not empty; but, in fact, were quite crowded. More of the familiar armored soldiers lined the walls, and there were other Jedi in the room in the same style of robes he now wore. The language he heard was an affront to his ears, as everyone spoke the same mishmash of languages as if it were normal and natural; eyes closed, he let it wash over him and he filtered most of it away as he saw the next distressing detail.

None of the Jedi had faces.

Where they should be, there was instead only blurriness, as if the head was enshrined in a layer of invisible smoke. Daniel tried not to stare, and as he did so, the face of the Jedi he was looking at become clearer, but the proportions seemed all wrong; as if there was an impostor trying to wear the face of someone else. There was an inherent  _fakeness_  to all of it, and the moment he looked away, the face returned to blankness.

In the center of the commons, before the dual circular staircases that led to the Council Chambers was a towering statue of… someone. Someone that seemed familiar.

He frowned, approaching closer. It was in the style of the statues he had seen before, carved out of gray stone, portraying a woman in flowing robes, a lightsaber held to her side, and a hand outstretched in a welcoming gesture. But it was the face; the mixture of two heads in graphic detail that made him look away, a zabrak and something he could not identify. The detail was exceptional, too exceptional for his liking. Seeing a plaque, he walked up to it hoping it would provide an answer.

It did, and the cold fell upon him again.

**_SARESH PALAVOLA – ASCENDANT LORD OF…_ **

The final word he couldn’t make out on first glance. It seemed to be a name, but it was difficult to piece it together.  _Vor… Vorilis… Orialis… Voralis…_  with the incoherent mashing of languages, picking out a word like this would take time, and he felt that time was not something he had right now. Still, ‘Ascendant Lord’… that was a title that seemed familiar to him, but certainly not one that he could apply to Palavola.

Then he heard it.

“Daniel!” The voice was flat and made his hair stand up on end, perhaps due to being the first time he had been addressed in the vision.

He turned and his heart sank when he saw who it was – or rather, who it was supposed to be. If her blue skin and head-tails hadn’t given it away, it was her signature in the Force that told him this was Lara’ritten. Though it was also not her; she felt different;  _wrong_. Her face was missing like the others, and when it manifested a few seconds later, it also didn’t  _fit_.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, her voice becoming more like he remembered, but with an alien undercurrent he couldn’t identify.

He forced a smile, opened his mouth to speak and realized that the cacophony of languages came to him instinctively. “No, no, of course not. Why do you ask?”

It felt utterly alien to speak; words not written for the human mouth.

“The meeting is to start in a few minutes,” she said as if it were obvious, “You are usually there well before it begins. When you didn’t show, I wondered if something had happened.”

“I…” Daniel began, then nodded, “No, just took a bit longer today. Let’s go.”

“Did you bring my lightsaber?” she asked, almost expectantly.

“No.” He paused. “No, I… forgot it.”

“Daniel,” she sighed, sounding almost like someone real, “you promised you would help me be better about that.”

“I know,” he said, feeling oddly guilty about something he had never promised, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I shouldn’t rely on you like that. It’s not fair to you,” she extended a hand, with an odd look on her face; almost sinister. He took it and she squeezed, her hand warm and almost comforting. “Come on, they are waiting. Today will be an important day.”

* * *

The Jedi Council Chambers were surprisingly preserved compared to what he had expected; though it wasn’t the composition of the Chambers that he knew would raise the most questions, but who sat upon them. Upon entering them, he immediately saw that the Council – or what appeared to remain of it – was suffering from the same thing that plagued the other Jedi he had seen.

“Skywalker. Good,” the individual in black armor – who Daniel believed was Shartan – said from his seat in a voice like Lara’s; initially flat and alien, “We can begin.”

The others in the room who were also standing took their seats. Daniel attempted to gauge just who was here now that the faces were beginning to manifest, even if all of them looked… off. He saw no trace of Undien, Dal, Tocrum, or Odan, though he  _did_  see Pon here, though he was changed as well. Everyone else, including Mateil and Yaden were present, along with four new individuals he didn’t recognize; replacements for the Jedi now missing.

Two chiss, a mirialan, and another human from the looks of it, though, unlike the others, their faces refused to fully manifest, and the more he looked, the more they seemed to switch what they were; from one species to another. It became too distracting after a few long seconds, and he looked away to the single empty seat who he presumed was for Palavola, who was conspicuously absent.

He decided it was worth asking a question. “Do we know if Palavola is joining us?”

“Ascendant Lord Palavola will be indisposed until Imperial Space is pacified,” one of the formless Councilors rasped, “She trusts our judgment to not weaken the Jedi in her absence.”

Daniel bowed his head to play along. “Of course.”

“I thought we had been assured the Imperials would integrate without issue,” Yaden interjected, fingers laced together, “It came from the Imperial Anchor, after all.”

“Merely remnants,” the second formless Councilor said, “The majority has fully integrated, and the leadership has been converted. These dissidents flee to the Outer Rim, even as they are pursued. It is only a matter of time now.”

“I have assigned War Commander Skywalker to pursue the Imperial dissidents,” Shartan stated. “When she has finished pacifying the Mandalorians, she will take her forces and bring the sector under our control.”

Daniel kept his face straight as he heard that. Since he was here, that only meant there was only one other Skywalker it could be…

“You’re sending Alana?” he asked cautiously, trying to phrase it as a natural prodding.

“Do you take issue?” Shartan demanded, an odd note in his voice, “I believe she is ideally suited to this operation.”

“No, carry on,” Daniel said in a toneless voice, a cold numbness coming over him.

Alana was certainly one of the most powerful and skilled Sentinels in the Order… but hearing that she would be suited toward crushing dissident forces was… wrong. She was an ideal Jedi Knight, not someone who sought violence like others in the Militant Order.

Though, as he had privately noted, she had an aggressiveness which could be pushed by a manipulative actor. Most of the malicious entities in the Jedi knew better than to risk corrupting her, but she was certainly at risk – and far too trusting and stubborn – for her own good.

It was concerning, and his concern only grew as the other Councilors continued talking.

“On that note, more deviants have been captured,” Mateil added, a hand under his chin, “Deserters, mostly. The number of prisons we possess is diminishing. More need to be created if their bodies are to be preserved.”

“Execute those who remain for now,” Shartan commanded, “They are unnecessary. The priority is immediate stability.”

There was a short chorus of agreement as Daniel observed with fascinated horror; himself a lone man surrounded by strangers and the insane.

“Skywalker,” Shartan looked to him, “Have any additional targets been assigned? Despite Yaden’s assurances, he is not Palavola, and I am unsure if there are still traitors in our midst.”

Daniel hesitated a few moments, then shook his head. “None which have been provided to me.”

“Strange,” Shartan leaned back in his chair, “Very well then. We continue forward.”

“Time is growing shorter,” a formless Councilor interjected, “The Ascendant Lord has confirmed that He is coming shortly. This galaxy must be completely pacified for His arrival.”

“Proactivity is necessary then,” Pon said in a dull voice, looking to Daniel, “I know you are opposed to this, but we have waited long enough. Removal of the opposition is necessary. Negotiation has failed; they will not integrate willingly.”

Daniel did not know what this specter of his friend was referring to, but he knew that it was not something he would willingly do. “Absolutely not.”

A sound like hissing came from Pon whose face blurred. “It will be an order soon. The Ascendant Lord will not tolerate further refusal.”

“Daniel, he’s right,” Lara implored, placing a hand on his arm, “More will die if this conflict is not ended soon.”

He looked at her alien face with complete neutrality. “A few deaths for galactic peace.”

“Exactly,” she affirmed, also confirming this was not the woman he cared for, “And then war will end forever.”

The statement sounded preposterous to him for a variety of reasons, but he sensed that she meant – or at least believed – every word. A quick sense around the room seemed to echo her sentiments. An end to war… there was too much context he was missing to even begin to understand if what she was proposing had any merit.

“I will consider it,” he said slowly, lacing his fingers together, wondering if he was failing a test of the vision, “That is all I will promise.”

“Some progress,” Shartan grunted, “I was certain Palavola was going to have to order you.”

“He understands the necessity of order before His arrival,” the third of the formless Councilors finally spoke, “The Anchors have been clear, and it is time we heed their warnings.”

“Indeed,” the fourth formless rested their hand on their knees, “The most critical development has been addressed, let us continue with what remains.”

* * *

The meeting felt like it lasted for hours. It was exhausting; a mental balance of maintaining the façade and trying to piece together what to say or react to from incomplete information, partial context, and the words of others. But he had made it through, with the vision continuing onward.

He felt there was something further in store.

Now he stood on an outdoor platform, looking out over the Ossus landscape and Temple grounds. Once, they had largely been untouched; with lush wildlife and a few locations for training arenas. Now, more of the stone statues lined red paths from the temple to the rest of the planet as far as he could see.

Barracks and smaller temples dotted the landscape, while squads of soldiers led by armored or robed Jedi marched along the paths. The Force still hummed throughout the planet like it always had. Now though, there was an undercurrent of rawness that had not existed before; a bloodlust and single-mindedness which tainted the well of power on this planet.

Adega Besh was setting on the horizon as he looked over what the Jedi had become.

He was still not entirely sure what had happened, but he knew that the Force was showing a Jedi Order that embraced the power it had sought for so long – or became the servant of another; one more powerful than even the Order. Though not, he suspected, a Sith. There was another entity at work here, but it was clear that at least part of this had been carried out willingly.

It was interesting that neither Undien, nor any of his allies, were part of it.

It made him wonder.

_What should we really fear?_

He felt the illusion of Lara come up behind him and put her arm around him. “A beautiful sight, isn’t it?”

Daniel placed his own arm around her, not looking at her face. “It reminds me of what once was,” he said quietly, “Before.”

“Much has changed,” Lara agreed, “but it’s almost over, and the galaxy will know eternal peace.”

“I hope so,” Daniel meant that, even in this illusion, “That is the only outcome that can be worth the price.”

They stood together for a while in silence, leaning on each other.

“Daniel?” Lara asked, almost hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“I think it’s time.”

He dropped his arm from her shoulder and turned, confused. “For what?”

“I’ve thought about what you said in the meeting,” Lara answered, cocking her head to look up at him, “I… thought it might mean you’re ready.”

He didn’t say anything yet, and just watched as she pulled out a small box; one that was black and lined with silver markings he could not identify. There was… something he sensed inside it; a desire; a  _wanting_. What was in the box was… alive. There was no other plausible explanation, but he couldn’t understand how that was possible.

“I know you’re wary; I was too,” Lara said, stepping closer, as he resisted the urge to step away, “but there’s nothing to be frightened of. It… completed me. This will complete you too. It will give you a comfort and understanding you’ve never known.”

“This feels wrong,” he shook his head.

“Daniel, do you trust me?” She took his hand and placed it over the box, which felt warm.

A slight hesitation. “Yes.”

“This is the right thing to do,” she insisted, “I promise. Join us. Help us bring peace to this galaxy… forever.”

He could not completely deny that he felt the allure. All it would take was to open the box and he wouldn’t have to worry anymore; the doubt would leave, and he would have the assurance those around him possessed. He knew that the box, or whatever was in it, would mean the end.

_A single sacrifice for eternal peace._

_Eternal control for infinite power._

_Infinite authority for singular purpose._

Mantras which whispered of the cost. What was being offered could be a trap, or it could be the solution.

He knew that this was the test, and he could only do what he felt was right.

Daniel put his free hand under Lara’s, and moved it away. “No, Lara. I won’t do this. I will find another way.”

He was unsure what would happen next, and Lara stepped back as if struck. Her face morphed into an expression of contempt, no longer even trying to be someone she was not. “So be it, Daniel. Your time will come eventually.”

At that, she turned and stormed away.

Immediately, the atmosphere of the vision changed. Wind picked up and the light turned from a warm orange to deep red. He turned back to look over the Ossus grounds, and saw an assembled army before him, legions that spanned as far as he could see. The smell of blood, machinery, and rot reached his nostrils and upon closer inspection, he saw that some of the soldiers were bloodied, wounded, or possibly dead.

 _“It does not matter how much you resist,”_  a new voice spoke, deeper and slower than ones he had heard before. This one he could understand with perfect clarity right away.  _“You are but one against the Infinite.”_

“Sometimes,” Daniel began, turning to face the new voice, “one is all it takes.”

The figure before him was presumably Palavola, but instead of even a blurred face, there was nothing but blackness. This was not her, but whatever had dominated her. Hands were clasped together before her Jedi robes, while palpable contempt radiated from her.  _“Not this time, Jedi. You should have known better than to interfere.”_

“Better to try, than allow this to fester,” Daniel clasped his own hands behind his back, “Strike me down if you wish; I will be beyond your reach.”

The voice coming from the void became amused as a hand lifted before him. Daniel felt the Force clamp around his body, pinning it in place with a magnitude he couldn’t even begin to break.

 _“Do not fear, Jedi,”_  it hissed,  _“I do not need to kill you to make use of your body. You still have a role to play, and it is past time you started.”_

With a gesture, it threw him off the platform and the vision plunged into darkness as Daniel freefalled for close to a minute before reality came back to him in a rush, and he slammed into the mud and swamp of Dagobah. R2 gave an alarmed beep and rolled over to him and Daniel picked himself up, brushing off the twigs and mud with his hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he told the droid, looking back to the mouth of the cave which was as pitch-black as before.

R2 gave a questioning warble.

“Yes… I think so.”

Daniel was not completely sure what he had seen, but it was clear the Force had shown him something important. There was something which threatened the Jedi Order, and Palavola seemed heavily connected to it.

“Come on,” he told the droid with a grunt, what he had seen weighing heavily on his mind, “Let’s go. I need to do some research.”


	2. Ahch-To - Vision of Corruption

** SotP Tales - Prelude to Twilight **

* * *

PART II

_ Ahch-To - Vision of Corruption _

* * *

Daniel disliked it when the Force was vague. As important as what he had seen on Dagobah was, he knew that trying to untangle it would be an arduous task – not unless he got help, and at this point, he was not ready for it. 

The most concrete thing he had been able to discern was that the Jedi were under threat from _something_ – which _wasn’t_ necessarily the Sith – and that Palavola was connected somehow. That alone made him wary, because there was simply no possible way to investigate that detail without arousing suspicion from _someone_.

That someone being a certain zabrak woman if he was especially unlucky.

He had been tempted to speak to Yaden, but decided it was too soon. He needed something stronger than a vision, and it wasn’t out of the question that the current Eternal Watcher would speak to Palavola immediately instead of doing something quieter, which Daniel believed was necessary for now.

Answers to some of the academic questions which had arisen remained elusive. He’d done some preliminary research, but while his knowledge of history was greater than most Jedi outside the Sphere of History and Knowledge, it was not something he specialized in – especially if it didn’t relate to a mission. Normally, he would go to Dal or Lowbacca – preferably the latter, even if his raw historical knowledge and access wasn’t as vast – though unfortunately, the Lorekeeper was on an assignment to the Outer Rim for an undisclosed amount of time. But in a way, it was a last resort. He wanted to try and figure out what he could before bringing in too many other people.

He had commed Alana though. Just to see how she was doing.

Thankfully, she was fine. Training with her Padawan. They’d talked for a bit, she’d mentioned that she was considering taking on another one, since she was rather unique in the Militant Order in that she only had one. From how it sounded, Daniel suspected she was being pressured, probably by some of the higher-ranking Sentinels. All he’d said was to do what she felt was right.

The conversation had made him feel better, although the vision still stuck in his mind.

No, it was not the time to worry yet.

He still had other options; other nexuses of power to investigate.

Another of which he would visit soon, though not before meeting with a woman he knew he could trust.

“What you saw may not mean what you think,” Lara’ritten said, cross-legged on a couch opposite the bed, her chin resting on one fist after he had finished telling what he’d seen. The tips of her lekku twitched, a subconscious habit of hers that revealed her true feelings, and that he had learned to interpret long ago as discomfort. “ ‘Always in motion is the future, and many possible futures there are.’ ”

The corners of his lips curled up at the quote, mildly amused. “I suspect Yoda never experienced something like this. And he wasn’t right about everything.”

“No, but I think we need to be… careful,” she frowned, lekku signaling concern; her eyes distant before she snapped them back to his, “While visions are important, we shouldn’t make decisions based on something we still don’t understand.”

“Which is why I’m waiting,” Daniel agreed with a nod, “I thought about talking to Yaden, but…” He shook his head. “Too early. I’m hopeful the Force will show me something else; context or knowledge I missed before.”

“It doesn’t feel right,” Lara said, more to herself, sighing as she stood and walked over to sit down beside him, “Palavola is not a typical Jedi, but she is perhaps one of the few on the Council I can trust.” A pause as she thought about how true that statement was. “Or at least, one of the few who I know isn’t focused on power, war, and influence.”

“I know,” Daniel agreed, sliding his arm around her shoulders and through her lekku, as she rested against him, her head on his shoulder, “but I was shown this for a reason. The Force does not lie.”

“But it _can_ deceive,” Lara amended quietly, “It shows possibilities and revelations, some of which may never come to pass or which lack proper context. We must be careful we don’t end up like the voss and trust the vision above all else.”

“Perhaps, but I almost wish one was here now. Their affinity for visions is unmatched,” Daniel mused, thinking on his previous visits to the enigmatic Mystics, “The future is fluid, but that does not mean action cannot be taken from what I learn. But as you said, we need to know more. It’s why I came here.”

“And was that the reason you asked me here?” Lara looked up with a small smile.

“Not the whole reason.” Daniel gave her a quick kiss. “I wanted to see you.”

“Well,” Lara finally spoke after a few minutes, “I’m glad you asked. And that you told me. Visions are very personal; usually too much to share with others.”

“They are,” Daniel agreed, “And you’re the only one I want to share it with.”

“Flatterer,” she snorted good-naturedly, “But thank you, Daniel.”

He held her for a few minutes more, then sighed. “Putting this off won’t change anything.”

“You’ve never visited this one before,” she mused to herself, recalling their many conversations on the topic.

“No, I came here once and didn’t enter,” he said grimly, “I didn’t want to risk falling. The only place of equivalent darkness I’ve experienced was Korriban.”

“And now would be different?”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t think I have a choice. The Force calls, even now. There is something I need to see.”

Lara gently pulled away and shifted to face him directly, pulled her knees up on the bed as she placed a teal hand over his own. “Let me come with you.”

He blinked. “No. I don’t want to risk you as well; _especially_ not you. The Jedi cannot lose who you are; certainly not because of me.”

“Daniel, I’m surrounded by darkness, corruption, and death every day inside and beyond the Order,” Lara continued gently, but firmly, “My life is devoted to helping others when they need it, regardless of the risks. Let me help you now.”

She had a point, but he was still leery. The nexus under Ahch-To was not benevolent or even neutral. It was purely of the dark side; a pit of rot and corruption that Jedi were quite rightfully warned away from. Only those strong in the Force were capable of protecting themselves from its call – a call which Daniel felt even now. A call he had felt the moment he had arrived on this planet.

Yet if there was anyone who could resist the call of the dark, it was Lara.

“Alright,” he relented, “Knowing you, I doubt you would stay even if I asked.”

She smiled. “I didn’t earn my title by lingering on Manaan.”

“Then we should get ready.” Daniel stood, and called his lightsaber to his hand. “I’d prefer we complete this before anyone else starts asking questions.”

* * *

The locals referred to it as the ‘Calling.’

Every Jedi who came to Ahch-To felt this. It was subtle at first; a slight tug on the mind that most would associate with a planet strong in the Force. But the longer one stayed on the planet, the tug would become stronger and darker. It would begin manifesting in other ways after longer exposure: brief thoughts of harm or suicide, heightened emotions, violent outbursts, and worse.

Jedi who stayed on this planet needed to continually maintain their mental defenses to resist this draw. Those who did would become accustomed to it and eventually filter it out. Those who did not were either broken mentally or drawn to the heart of the planet. The nexus of power that rested near the Jedi Temple.

The closer one was to the nexus, the greater the draw was.

The local alien species who resided on the planet were not immune to this either. But unlike the Jedi, they did not concern themselves with worrying over it, or even protecting themselves. When one of their Caretakers succumbed to the Calling, it merely meant their time had come and they were permitted to perish without interference.

The call of the nexus appeared to drive those affected to pursue it no matter the obstacle or circumstance. Thus, the path to the nexus was littered with corpses – fauna and sapient beings alike – of those that followed the Calling. Caretakers who had thrown themselves off the edges of the cliffs to reach the nexus rotted on the sea-sprayed stone, several of which both Daniel and Lara walked past.

It was a well-known fact that some of those who went over the edge died instantly. Others, much later.

The atmosphere around here had shifted from a crisp humidity to an oily slickness; his robes felt greasy and uncomfortable – despite the cool breeze. Lara wasn’t faring any better. The path to the nexus was carved into stone along the mountain. Corpses of avian wildlife and the rodents of the planet also lined the steps; their minds having collapsed.

Their boots splashed into water, alien blood, and bodily fluids which congealed into a foul black substance that leaked out of the orifices of the corpses around them. They soon reached the bottom, where the entrance was a short distance away. Black vegetation and seaweed swamped the stone plateau they stood upon, everything dead or dying, punctuated with the stink of rotting fish.

“No one has entered here before, have they?” Lara asked quietly as they beheld the sea which roiled in continuous fury below them.

Waves, dozens of meters tall, slammed against the cliffs and ensured the walkway was slick with water while throwing up vegetation and fish to die before the nexus; no matter the climate of the rest of the planet, the ocean never ceased its maelstrom.

“No one from the modern Order,” Daniel answered, thinking back, “There have been others who have entered before. But there was only one I remember who came back out. It was before the Temple was restored, and only the Caretakers kept records of the event. A young woman during the Third Imperial Civil War came and entered the nexus.”

“I don’t suppose you know who it was?” Lara kicked some black seaweed off her boots. “Surely this would have been recorded elsewhere, especially if she was a Jedi.”

Daniel paused. “I’m not sure she was. The Caretakers called her a ‘seeker.’ That isn’t what is important.”

“What is?”

“The only thing she said to them about what she saw.” Daniel looked to the direction of the entrance. “She told them it was a ‘mirror.’ ”

On that foreboding note, they continued walking. Daniel gave up on trying to keep his boots clear of the black muck, and trudged onward; their footsteps eliciting squishes with every step taken. Puddles of black water flowed to the cliff’s edge where the waves splashed, and both Jedi soon found themselves drenched as wave after wave sprayed them with chilling water.

That paled compared to the power that radiated from the direction ahead of them. Daniel grimaced as he resisted the screaming draw to rush forward and let the nexus embrace him. His stomach roiled and swirled, with nausea coming and going in equally sickening spurts. Lara was similarly not faring well; her face tight, with her lekku twitching violently; her entire being radiated with an urge to flee.

Lara suddenly stopped. “Daniel, look.”

He tilted his head to see what she was quickly jogging toward. It only took him a second to see it – one of the alien Caretakers on the ground, and inching his way to the entrance of the nexus only meters ahead.

Rushing over, Daniel could immediately tell that the little stubby alien had been there for at least a day or more. It was a miracle that he wasn’t already dead. But he had to be in unimaginable pain. His legs, as well as one arm and all of the fingers on both hands were bent in odd ways, and the legs were clearly shattered.

Black muck and dead seaweed covered him, the robes it wore were scraps; splinters of stone were jabbed into one eye, while the other was glassy. Yet it still kept pulling itself forward, millimeter by millimeter. It had been completely consumed by the Calling, and nothing else mattered but reaching the nexus.

“Hold him still,” Lara said, falling to one knee as she placed a hand on the alien’s forehead, “He’s in bad shape.”

“You don’t say,” Daniel said dryly, but reached out with the Force to first clear the excess vegetation and muck off of the alien, before pinning him in place. The alien gave a pitiful squeal, clearly distraught the two Jedi were keeping it from the nexus. “How did he survive?”

“A lucky fall, and limited internal damage,” Lara said, standing and beginning to glow with power as she bowed her head, closed her eyes and folded her hands as if in prayer; a golden glow settling around her as she called upon the healing power of the Force, “This may take some time.”

Her eyes opened, glowing with power, Lara placed one hand over the other and knelt to the chest of the alien and golden waves flowed from her into the body. The discipline of healing was not something Daniel had an affinity for, but it was nonetheless fascinating to observe. It drove doctors and medics mad because it defied all conventional wisdom and science.

But the Force itself was not something that could be easily defined by such.

Lara moved her hands over to the shattered legs, taking hold of, and pouring energy into them. Before his eyes he saw the bones straighten out and become whole again. Lara had once described the process to him as molding the body through the Force; reshaping it to what she desired. That, she explained, was the reason Jedi healers needed a thorough understanding of anatomy. It was _extremely_ easy to make a mistake and affect the proportions of the body entirely; at least for broken bones, amputations, and other major injuries. Far simpler to heal internal and non-structural injuries.

It was slow going, as Lara took her time with each injury; expected, since she was putting a splintered body back together. Daniel lost track of time as he watched, though became aware that the call of the nexus had faded while in her presence. While she healed, she provided a counterbalance to the corruption and death around them.

Finally, she stood and looked over her handiwork. The alien was whole; physically at least. The glow surrounding Lara faded and she laced her fingers together. “His body is healed; his mind will need more time. I am not sure what to do with him now. Leaving him here is a mistake.”

“Yes.” Daniel looked to the beckoning gap where the nexus called. “His mind won’t resist the nexus.”

“Perhaps we should take him back to the Temple,” Lara said, kneeling down, “The Jedi will be able to protect his mind.”

“Or there is another solution.” Daniel looked down, considering. “I can lock his mind in place. Put him into a deep slumber. It should hold until we emerge.”

Lara looked up at him warily, her lekku signaling doubt. “Are you certain?”

“I’m _confident_ ,” he admitted, “but around a nexus like this… nothing is completely certain. If we take him back, there will be questions on where we found him.”

“And if we don’t, he may die anyway.” Lara shook her head. “No. We will take him back. This place has claimed many lives already; it will not claim this one.”

He was not fond of the implications if the wrong people began asking the right questions, but at the same time, they would eventually have to take him back. Perhaps better to do it now than later.

“Alright.” Daniel grasped the alien in a telekinetic grip and slung him over his shoulder. “Let’s get this one to safety. The nexus isn’t going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” Lara said sincerely, her lekku showing relief that he was doing it. She apparently had been concerned he would insist upon continuing forward. “We’re doing the right thing.”

“I know we are,” Daniel said as they began walking back, “Let’s hope it’s also the smart thing.”

* * *

Several hours later they found themselves before the entrance to the nexus again.

“Is he still following us?” Lara asked, covertly flashing her eyes upwards to the path they had descended from.

“No,” Daniel confirmed, dropping to one knee and peering down into the blackness, “He stopped when we reached the steps. He likely knew what we were doing.”

Lara pursed her lips. “Should we have stopped him?”

“No, I recognize his techniques,” Daniel dismissed, “Imperial Intelligence. Probably reconnaissance. Ultimately harmless right now. If they become a problem, I’ll divert them somewhere else.”

“I don’t know.” Lara chewed the bottom of her lip, joining him as she gazed into the abyss. “Taking an interest in you isn’t a good sign.”

“I doubt it’s malicious.” Daniel shrugged. “It’s certainly not the first time. I’m the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. Keeping tabs on people like me is understandable, and we’ve done it to them before as well. It would only be cause for concern if they sent an Inquisitor. A regular operative is not an issue.”

“I’ll trust you to handle it,” Lara said, peering into the blackness. A few moments passed. “Jumping seems unwise.”

“Agreed,” Daniel said, frowning.

The pit was like the entrance to the Dagobah nexus; an impenetrable wall of darkness. Nothing came from it; no sound, sight, or smell. Just pitch-blackness. He picked up one of the dead fish that surrounded the pit and dropped it into the pit. No sound was heard, even after waiting a few seconds.

“Let me try something,” Lara said, lowering a hand down and palm flat toward the pit.

The Force wavered as she drew upon the light; a light golden aura surrounding her and flowing around the extended hand. The light landed on the black pit and seemed to meet fierce resistance. Lara betrayed no strain outside a slight twitch of her eyes, and within a moment, the darkness dissipated and they could see below.

A clear pool was below them, one which also seemed to connect directly to the ocean. The light was dim, but there seemed to be land further in. At this Lara closed a fist and the light faded as her arm lowered. Near-instantly, the darkness once more shrouded the pit.

“There we go,” Lara said, “Looks safe enough to jump.”

“How are you?” Daniel asked, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Dispelling a nexus illusion isn’t easy. Especially after you just finished healing that Caretaker.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, “The light is strong, even here. I cannot be exhausted so long as I’m connected to it.”

“Let’s hope it remains the same down there.” Daniel braced himself. “I’ll jump first.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” she said.

Daniel took a breath, and jumped into the darkness, cocooning himself in a protective sheath of energy. He didn’t completely trust what had been revealed, and if there was a surprise down here, he was going to be prepared for it. He fell for several seconds and then slammed into the water with a splash.

Though calling it _water_ was a gross assumption.

Upon contact, he immediately knew it was a thinner variant of the sludge and muck that coated everything on the surface. Foul to all of his senses, he pushed himself up, adrenaline pumping as he felt _things_ connecting to his body – slimy and adhesive. Ignoring them for the moment, he burst from the muck and swam to the edge and grasped it, resisting the urge to flinch as the strands of black muck seemingly woven together coating the rocks became alive somehow, wrapping itself loosely around his palm and fingers; inexplicably sticky and slimy to his fingertips.

With a grunt he ripped it up and shakily stood, feeling the things which had attached themselves to him grow at an impossible rate. He looked at them and grimaced in disgust. They were like eyeless and mouthless slugs or snakes; growths which had eaten through his clothes and bound themselves directly to the skin. More seemed to be crawling onto him from the ground, and with a start he realized that the ground was infested with the black and gray _things_ that permeated the weaved muck.

_They may not be real._

For all he knew, this could all be part of the vision.

It certainly _felt_ real.

The Force was still with him, even here, and he reached to grab one of the black growths on his arm and tugged, resulting in it not budging in the slightest. He ran the tips of his fingers on where it met the skin, and it appeared to have completely grafted on. Resisting a shudder as the things continued to grow, he reached for his lightsaber to try and cut it off. He laid the sapphire blade on the growth, which cut through easily, but to his surprise seemed to do nothing, with it growing _over_ the blade, and when he removed it, healed whole without a scratch.

 _That could be an issue._ A splash and cough grabbed his attention as Lara also pulled herself out of the muck, covered in the sludge.

As she wiped the worst of it from her eyes, mouth, and lekku, he noticed there didn’t seem to be any growths on her, and the infestation on the ground didn’t cling to her as much.

She spat out some black water, eyes widening with shock when she saw him. “Daniel!”

“I’m alive,” he told her, voice rougher and still feeling the creatures continue to grow across his chest, causing him to involuntarily shiver as it felt ice-cold, “You’re lucky you didn’t get any on you.”

“Let me try to get them off.”

She lifted a hand that glowed brightly and lowered it to one of the black growths on his arm, and he involuntarily jerked back, her hand as hot as a flaming brand. She hesitated, and at his nod, tried again and he could only withstand several seconds before it became too painful.

It wasn’t just physical pain, but something he felt deep inside him; mental pain more splitting than any migraine. “I… I don’t think that’s going to work,” he gasped, wincing as the growths seemed to dig deeper into his skin, “The lightsaber didn’t do anything permanent either. This… might be part of it.”

“A vision?”

“Maybe.” He looked around the cave they found themselves in. Faint blue-gray light from no tangible source provided some illumination, though no clear direction presented itself. Just an endless expanse of the infested stone with the lake of black behind them. “I suppose we should start walking.”

They did so, the corruption on the ground clinging to their boots with every step. As minutes passed, Daniel felt he was gradually being poisoned, though he wasn’t convinced it would be enough to kill him. It was a seeping effect; he became slowly aware of small bodily changes. Touch and feeling vanishing on parts affected, a slowing heart rate, slowed breathing, his body _slowing_ in general.

“You got those in the water, right?” Lara asked, glancing toward him even as she lifted a hand; creating a small ball of golden illumination that hovered above them.

“Yes, and some on the land, I think,” Daniel answered as another wave of nausea wracked his body, “I don’t know how you avoided them.”

“I—” she began, then stopped; her lekku flicking _caution_ , “Look.”

Daniel looked ahead and saw a glass pane that seemed to arise from nowhere. Staring back out at him was an alien – a chiss, free of growths or changes. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but Daniel couldn’t place it. They approached closer, and Daniel saw that the person in the glass was imitating him completely. 

A mirror.

He paused, lifted a hand, and the reflection did the same. Looking around, he saw more mirrors had arisen, each of them containing a different person or alien.

“Do you recognize them?” Lara asked quietly.

“They are familiar,” he answered, deciding to continue forward, even as everywhere he looked, more mirrors arose, “They’re…” he trailed off as he made the connection, copies of individuals he thought were just copies, but seeing a kaminoan suddenly made the situation make sense.

He was beginning to piece together something of what was happening.

“They’re people I’ve killed,” he said aloud, “Clones, traitors, kaminoans, Sith, everyone.”

The figures in the mirror stopped imitating him, and instead stared at the couple; eyes unblinking and saying nothing. They silently watched; judged as both continued.

“So many,” Lara noted softly as they walked.

“More obvious when in one place,” Daniel said grimly.

“Perhaps,” she admitted, “but you didn’t fight directly in the Uprising. You came after.”

He pursed his lips. “Yes. I did.”

The mirrors faded behind them after minutes of walking, and soon there was only one in the distance, and this one was different from the rest. There was no victim of his past inside, but Daniel as he stood now. The black growth had consumed his left arm which he no longer felt, while grayish growths had spread across his chest, around his neck, and on part of his face. It seemed that they had stopped growing, thankfully, but he still looked like a monstrous version of himself.

Looking into the mirror, he realized several other details. The black corruption on the ground was clinging and trying to grow up his boots, though didn’t quite manage to pass the ankles. The eye closest to the gray growths glowed yellow, while the right was still normal. His skin had grown unnaturally pale too, though not to the extent of a Sith or corpse.

In contrast, Lara looked almost normal aside from the muck which coated her robes. She looked around at the seemingly endless expanse. “What do we do now?”

“We continue,” Daniel said firmly, lifting his corrupted arm and balling the hand into a fist. With the Force empowering him, he knew what he needed to do. He jabbed the fist at the mirror and it shattered into dust.

Immediately, the true vision revealed itself to them.

* * *

Harsh red light shone down upon the steps of the Jedi Temple of Coruscant as the air grew humid. But it was not the Temple that Daniel and Lara were familiar with, but one which was afflicted with the corruption that had permeated the nexus. It was not disrepair and decay so much as an infestation. The ground was slick with black fluid and muck, with the black corruption spider-webbing along the stones.

The statues and the pathway to the Temple was cracked and infested with the black and gray growths, giving the impression of it acting as a glue that held the pieces together, causing the statues and temple in the distance to weep black liquid which ran down in small streams to join the puddles of muck.

The sound of aircraft and the bustling of millions going about their day was oddly muted, with sound itself seeming to seep away; though what it was replaced with Daniel almost had to strain to hear. It was low; perhaps a gurgle or growl. Sometimes it seemed to emanate from the corruption, and sometimes it seemed to have no source. There were a few seconds when Daniel felt he could hear a name or some kind of message coming through.

Likely another illusion.

Daniel’s skin that was infected felt slick and hot, and a quick glance down confirmed that black liquid was also leaking from his fingertips and running down his body; the red light from above giving the illusion of dark blood falling from his hands. Above, the Coruscant skylines seemed to still exist, though they were blurred; a part of the vision which was clearly unimportant.

The true focus was before them.

Armored Jedi were marching down the walkways and out of the Temple entrance to waiting transport ships where more military officials and soldiers were waiting. Daniel and Lana stood in the midst of the legions, seemingly ignored for now. All the Jedi were affected by the growths that plagued him to an extent; some only marginally, with gray growths around their chests or shoulders, while others had half of their bodies covered in the black parasites.

More noticeable was what connected all of them together; masses of intangible strings and strands between the growths like those on the ground, mostly around the ankles which grew and contracted in perfect sync with the marching; never placing their hosts in danger of entanglement. 

Taking a closer look, he saw that they were primarily of the Militant Order, interspersed with Justicars, Sages, and some Shadows. The growths had torn their garments and broken their armor, yet they continued onward, oblivious as what remained was stitched together by the black and gray strands.

The smell of burning oil and fire, along with other foul smells of rot and death filled the air, though there was no source for them he could see. Lara looked around; her face distraught as she beheld the situation around them; one which they were still being ignored by.

“Daniel,” she said quietly, “Look at the strands.”

Daniel cocked his head and took a closer look. Unlike his first assumption, the strands were not simply static but were… flowing as if gravity was pulling them; though it was clearly not the case here. Despite this, the mass of the strands didn’t seem to be lessening, though the implication was clear.

“A source exists,” he said aloud, though quietly, not knowing what could spook the infected around him.

“One we should probably find,” Lara agreed, and together they began walking on the slick stone pathway.

Daniel had a suspicion of what he would find, and a minute later they saw the Battlemaster standing in the center of his marching legions, arms behind his back as he observed the march to this war – with an armored Alana Skywalker at his side along with a couple other Jedi he didn’t immediately recognize.

But while the marching Jedi were only somewhat infected, the growths had consumed Zevro Shartan to the point where he was barely recognizable. Thick black coils wrapped around his arms, other growths had consumed his chest to where only pieces of armor were left. His cape that flickered in the hot wind was made more of strands than cloth.

His face had been covered to the point that only his eyes were visible; shining red, echoing the light above. Daniel was not positive, but he would not have been surprised if the growths had added to Shartan’s already imposing height. Daniel had long known there was a darkness within Shartan… but absolutely nothing like this.

In contrast, Alana was nowhere near as consumed, though the growths covered her body the same as the others nearby. Her armor was cracked and seeping with the gray growths, with portions of her shoulder covered in black. Her face was partially consumed with the gray-black growths, as her face sported a barrage of scars she didn’t have.

“Battlemaster,” Daniel greeted calmly, walking up, also nodding to his great-granddaughter, “Alana.”

“Daniel,” she nodded back curtly – forgoing the usual moniker of ‘grandfather’ – her voice raspy and gurgly, as if sick.

“Skywalker,” Shartan’s voice had changed, an oily echo to the deep baritone, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

There were several ways that could be taken considering where they were. “Perhaps not, Shartan,” Daniel answered, crossing his arms, “but here I am all the same.”

A sound of displeasure emanated from Shartan, and he noticed Alana tense before the Battlemaster spoke, “This will be resolved shortly, Skywalker. It does not concern you.”

“Daniel…” Alana added, a tinge of pleading in his ruined voice, “He’s right.”

“Considering what is around us now, we are owed an explanation,” Lara interrupted coldly, eyes narrowing and wholly ignoring Alana. There were few people she legitimately despised, but Shartan was number one on that list. “Remember who you are speaking to.”

“Silence, Ritten,” Shartan sneered, lifting a flat, mutated palm before her in dismissal, “Go back to the Outer Rim and heal the degenerates you coddle so much.”

“Explain this, Shartan, now,” Daniel interrupted, “The Council did not sanction this.”

“This is no war, Skywalker,” Shartan clarified, turning his red eyes to Daniel’s own, “Corellian radicals have been carrying out escalating raids against Alliance targets for the past month; yesterday, they took control of the government with a number of defectors and are declaring Corellian independence. Alliance High Command has requested the assistance of the Militant Order to end this revolt, and as an ally, I intend to ensure they are successful.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Lara demanded, lekku communicating skepticism.

Shartan extended a hand and the lightsaber that hung from it flew into the snug palm which engulfed the hilt in gray growth and ignited. The scarlet blade taken centuries ago from the Knights of Ren shone bright before the Jedi reflecting the blood light around them. “ _Methodically_ , Lara. We have grown tired of the Corellians believing they are entitled to more than the rest of the Alliance; their tolerance of radicals is not a new phenomenon. We will root out the radicals, dissidents, and traitors street by street and ensure no rebellion arises again.”

“ _Raids_? Millions will be caught in the middle!” Lara exclaimed with righteous anger and flashing eyes as she took a step forward, “I know you better than to think this will be done with _delicacy_.”

“Corellia has been treated with velvet gloves for _centuries_ ,” Shartan retorted, sheathing his lightsaber, “They are a _rebellious_ and _dissident_ people. Today their insurgency _ends_. If many die, so be it. The stability of the Alliance is worth more than a single world.” He took a step toward Lara, his form towering over her. “You may remain blind to the threats we face, but I am not. Go. I am done with you.”

“As far as I am concerned,” Lara refused to relent, maintaining eye contact, “The greatest threat now to the Alliance is _you_.”

Daniel looked beside the Battlemaster. “Alana… is this truly the right thing to do.”

Shartan just chuckled, a low rumble before he placed a tainted hand on Alana’s shoulder, immediately blackening the growths around it. “She _knows_ it is the right thing to do, Daniel. It is fortunate that there is at least one Skywalker who understands this.” He shook his head. “Come, Sentinel-Commander Skywalker. There is work to do.”

Without another word, he marched forward with the rest of his soldiers and Alana close behind. As he left, Daniel noticed the thousands of strands that connected to him with each step; each one with the corruption flowing outwards – not the opposite. _The source. Or_ a _source._  

With his back turned, he was exposed.

_Purge the source._

_End the corruption._

His hand fell unconsciously to his lightsaber. Here, at least, Shartan had been one to push her to embrace the darkness within. He couldn’t stand by and let it happen. But at the same time, he knew Alana well enough to know removing Shartan wouldn’t solve anything – and even now, it didn’t seem like she was forever lost, even if what this vision promised came to be.

Gritting his teeth, Daniel shook his head and let the urge pass. That was what the vision wanted him to do, but he wouldn’t give in that easily. It would need to try harder.

Lara was still staring after him, anger written on her face.

“Lara.” He put his uninfected hand on her shoulder, taking a breath. “It’s not real.”

“Perhaps not,” Lara said mutely, growing just a little less stiff, “but that is exactly what he would say. That is how he would justify it. That is what he would support. That was Shartan, and it always has been.”

“Yes…” Daniel turned to the entrance and kept walking, Lara beside him. “I knew he was on the edge, but I didn’t realize he was so far gone. He is no Sith.”

“One does not need to be Sith to fall, Daniel,” Lara said, almost bitterly, “If Shartan has not fallen, he is only waiting for a reason. And if Alana falls under his sway…”

“I know.”

They silently continued onward. He didn’t know what he was going to find, but this vision had shown him that the rot within the Order was far more pervasive than even he had originally presumed. A corruption even he was clearly not immune to; a darkness which existed in everyone to an extent. Though not Lara, it seemed.

Curious.

The interior of the Temple was in no better shape, nor were the Jedi who inhabited it. The grand structure seen by so many as a beacon of light and justice now showed the corruption within. Perhaps this was the Jedi at their worst; when all had fallen. What he considered a worse alternative was that this was not a reflection of the future, but the present.

Could corruption on this scale even _be_ reversed?

“Ah, Master Skywalker!”

Daniel turned and saw a surprise. Councilors Paala Tocrum, Taitho Dal, and Pon Tiian were walking up. Tocrum was unsurprisingly corrupted, though not to the extent Shartan had been. Growths covered his body, and his pupils shown yellow, but his face was untouched, though slightly ghoulish as black fluid leaked from his eyes, ears, and the corners of his mouth.

Dal though…

Daniel was legitimately surprised. He was as corrupted as Shartan, if not more. His body was consumed by the growths, and visible footsteps of fluid followed him where he’d walked. He was unrecognizable, if not for the distinct mon calamari head. Daniel looked at him in near-horror, though quickly hid that under a mask of neutrality.

_What is your secret, Dal?_

Additionally surprising was that Pon was so similar to Lara. He looked almost… normal. There was a singular gray growth on his chest, but outside of that he appeared mostly untouched. A measure of relief flowed into him. Pon had always been a good friend, and someone Daniel had believed he could trust. Here it seemed, his instincts were proven right.

Even still, it was a vision and he needed to be wary all the same.

“Masters,” Daniel answered warily, giving a short bow, “A pleasure.”

“Indeed, just in time to send off our fine soldiers,” Tocrum said jovially, “Again, Master Skywalker, while I have nothing but respect for our colleague, I do wish he curtailed his unilateral actions at times.”

“Indeed,” Dal sounded nothing like he normally did, his watery voice now raspy and dry, “This required consultation with the Council. Not him and Mateil taking matters into their own hands.”

Normally, Daniel believed that Lara would have voiced begrudging agreement, but here she held her tongue, likely spooked by the corruption.

“I agree,” Daniel finally said, clasping his hands before him, “We must not become segregated like this. We act as a singular unit, especially with decisions like this.”

“Exactly,” Pon stated, his voice sounding normal, but with a tinge of anger beneath it, “Not to mention his plans are simply going to get more people killed, and add to the already precarious situation. The anti-Alliance sentiment will not diminish if he kills more people.”

Tocrum chuckled. “Please. No one will mourn such terrorists.”

“It is his insubordination that is an issue, not necessarily his actions.” Dal lifted a dripping hand. “I believe most of us agree that the stability of the Alliance is paramount for the safety and prosperity of the Order. While regrettable, incidents like Corellia must be stopped quickly before violence spreads. If history has shown us anything, it is that unchecked rebellions can bring down even the strongest of governments.”

“Well said,” Tocrum agreed vigorously, patting his colleague on the shoulder; a move that Dal seemed to regard with contempt, with Pon just sighing, “Undien made a valiant attempt to reason with the dissidents, but it predictably went nowhere. A shame, but it cannot be said he did not try.”

“And what exactly did his negotiation consist of?” Lara asked pointedly, “Surrender or die?”

“More or less,” Pon grunted.

“Ah, Lara, Lara,” Tocrum shook his head with a good-natured chuckle, “You and Master Tiian both boil down points so _succinctly_. In the end, negotiation is very simple, and is merely inflated with pretty words and masterful wordplay. Tell me, what is the alternative? How do we deal with _terrorists_ such as these?”

“They do not act without reason.” Lara crossed her arms. “Not from Corellia. The Alliance is merely reaping what they sow, and it will backfire in the future. Violence here won’t solve it.”

“My dear, I would advise you look to history, as I’m sure Master Dal would agree,” Tocrum lightly chided, “Diplomacy has been tried many times, and do you know what ultimately brings about change?” He smiled. “It is conflict – even Pon could tell you this, given his many travels. Negotiation failed with the First Order. It failed with the kaminoans. It failed here. Diplomacy requires two to dance, dear Lara. One-sided diplomacy is a mere bandage to a festering wound. It is the tool of the civilized, of which sadly these dissidents are simpleminded barbarians, as most of their ilk are. Do not worry, I suspect there will be many to heal when all is said and done.”

“Let us hope that we will move into a more peaceful age where such actions are unneeded,” Dal interjected, rubbing his chin, “I too hope for the galaxy you wish, Lara, but your compassion has always been your undoing. To pretend we do not live in this harsh galaxy is naïve.”

“And sometimes, that compassion is what is needed,” Pon interjected, glaring at his colleagues, “A change instead of perpetuating cycles of violence.”

“He is right,” Daniel said, “Violence is not the only way to bring about change. There are other options.”

“True in some cases, Skywalker,” Dal conceded, almost mocking, “but not where it matters.”

Daniel felt it was time they moved on; he had a feeling he knew where this vision was leading him. Facing these two though, the dark thought whispered to him. _Corrupt. Fallen. Remove them. Cleanse this Order of the rot._

_There is no choice._

_They cannot be saved._

_They cannot be redeemed._

_They have fallen._

_They will not rise again._

“Undien,” Daniel said, trying to shut the dark voice within him, “Where is he?”

“Below,” Dal said, “Reviewing what is to come.”

“Thank you, Masters.” Daniel gave a short bow. “I will see you shortly.”

“We shall see, Grand Master,” Tocrum said with a foreboding smile, “We will always be here.”

Daniel and Lara walked away, feeling the eyes of the corrupted Jedi boring into them from behind, even as they began descending the stairs to the lower levels.

* * *

There were no more Jedi as they descended the stairs to the lowest levels, but the black corruption grew more prevalent; seeping from the cracks in the foundations, flowing steadily from above, with strands falling from the ceiling and flickering in nonexistent wind. Almost waiting for something to latch onto.

The air turned to a colder humidity; a decidedly unpleasant sensation, even if half of his body couldn’t feel it at this point. The floor was no longer merely riddled with the growths and strands – a thin puddle of black sludge coated it. Each step resulted in a slurping and sticking noise that both of them did their best to tune out.

The only other sound was that disgusting gurgle that thrummed on the edge of perception. It was at once clear and opaque. There was a word hidden within, Daniel was certain of it, but he could not make it out. The cadence like a death rattle that took every breath to get out. Was it a name? A command? The Force was clearly trying to tell him something, but there were no answers in the echoes.

The lower levels of the Coruscant Temple were mostly libraries; principally on history and politics, but knowledge nonetheless. Many a time he had come here to read and learn in peace. The libraries now were decaying like the rest of the temple. The books and datapads were coated in muck, the smell of mold more prominent.

“He’s ahead,” Daniel said quietly as he sensed a presence that _felt_ like Undien’s but was not completely perfect.

Not even a vision could correctly mimic unique presences perfectly. It was a small room ahead which was typically used for meetings of all types; diplomatic, military, and academics utilized them many times, as had both Daniel and Undien before.

“What will you do?” Lara asked.

“Talk. For now,” Daniel answered, “I think we’re reaching the end.”

He could see Undien within now, looking at a holoprojector of a blank planet, a datapad resting nearby. He paid no attention as Daniel stepped past the threshold but the instant he did so, Lara yelped in surprise as the entrance sprouted strands which cut them off, growing thicker by the second until there was a small and pulsing wall between them.

Daniel wasn’t alarmed; not yet. It appeared this part of the vision was meant just for him. Turning away from the entrance, he appraised Undien who had still not acknowledged him. The growths had similarly affected the older Jedi as well, though Daniel noticed something more peculiar about his. They were prevalent throughout his body, consuming one whole arm, and large portions of the remaining limbs. His torso was similarly engulfed, as well as part of his face, though most of it was still exposed.

But the growths were of the gray variant, not pure black. Also, unlike others, thick cords of black hung from the ceiling, connecting to his body, turning the corruption around where they were connected black; a poison that intended to eventually spread.

“Skywalker,” his voice was largely normal, if a bit rougher, “Welcome.”

“Undien,” he said, looking around the barren room, “You’ve been busy.”

“You’ve seen what has taken place here,” Undien turned to properly face him, “Tell me what you think, _Grand Master_.”

Daniel lowered his hands and clasped one over the other as he appraised his political rival for the Order. “The Order is going down a dark path.”

Undien’s lips twitched. “A narrow-minded perspective, Skywalker. I thought you would understand. You are seeing the future, Grand Master. A strong Order, a strong Alliance, and a united galaxy. Admirable goals, are they not?”

“Strength is not the only goal,” Daniel refuted with a shake of his head, “Power that is not tempered will eventually be abused against the powerless. First it is the dissident protestors, soon it will be the Imperium; the Mandalorians. Eventually it will be turned on the remainder of the galaxy who do not submit.”

“Such a path is not certain, Skywalker,” Undien clasped his hands behind his back; steel in his voice, “It is preferable to the alternative. You would neuter the Jedi from what _I_ have forged them into. It is because of _me_ that we have been granted the means to _ensure_ our survival, and that of the Alliance. The politics you deride so much has forged alliances that have never been enjoyed by our Order. We have been given the opportunity to shape the galaxy into what it needs to be; one of peace and prosperity for the Jedi and our allies.”

He narrowed his eyes. “But that vision cannot be achieved on our own; nor should it, else we are no better than Sith. I gather allies for this, Skywalker. Allies we will need. If anything, we should be joined in this quest. Would you rather we bend the galaxy by force like Shartan? That we watch the Alliance slowly decay like the Old Republic? That we muzzle our voice and lessen our influence to pander to the shrieking critics? Is that _better_ , Skywalker?”

“As you said, paths are not certain, Undien,” Daniel said calmly, “We are Jedi. We are guardians of peace and justice, allies to the citizens of the galaxy, be they Alliance, Imperial, or neither. We strive for peace, transparency, and honesty. We serve the galaxy; our purpose is not to control it. We are to be peacekeepers, not soldiers.”

“So you believe.” Undien’s smile was thin and mocking. “Have you considered that you could be _wrong_? That we should become _more_?” his voice turned more considerate, something he utilized when trying to convince someone of something, “The Order has evolved, Daniel, and there is a reason for this. You know better than to believe your naïve spiel. The galaxy does not behave as you wish it did. For the first time, we have _corrected_ the mistakes that have plagued our Order, and become stronger for it.”

“None of what I said requires the Jedi to lessen their reach,” Daniel disputed, “We merely refuse to become partisan; to perpetuate the cycles of corruption that have taken control of the Senate. History will not look kindly upon us when it falls, and when it is revealed we supported those who ruled, and thrived through them.”

“And cede the galaxy to the Imperium? The Mandalorians? The Consortium?” Undien briefly snorted. “You lack willingness or perspective to see the truth, Skywalker. The Jedi have played a passive role for much of galactic history, believing our place was to be advisors, pawns, and mouthpieces for the Republic for thousands of years, and initially the Alliance. We have been _subservient_ , and what has the galaxy accomplished when the Jedi were in this state?”

He looked around, and seemed to motion to the corruption. “They become infested. Weak. Corrupt. They bring the galaxy to ruin gradually until the cycle resets. The Old Republic is a monument to failure, only propped up by the _fear_ and _incompetence_ of those who rose to oppose them. You know the histories; I will not repeat them. The Alliance today would have _shattered_ if we had not stepped in, if _I_ had not used our gifts to ensure the Alliance remained in power. _Remained_ the dominant force of this galaxy. No, Skywalker, I will not apologize for playing the necessary game of politics to steer the Alliance to victory.”

Undien went silent for a few seconds, then cocked his head, appraising Daniel. “Do you think I am _ignorant_ of who I associate with; with what I continue to allow to _endure_? What I have _perpetuated_?”

Daniel shook his head. “No.”

“I do everything for a very simple reason,” Undien insisted, extending a corrupted hand imploringly, “To protect our Order, to the Alliance we both have dedicated our lives to protecting. We have nearly been extinguished many times before, but no more. I will do whatever is necessary to prevent our extinction at the hands of the Sith or any others who threaten what both of us have built. No matter the cost, it is for the good of the galaxy – and the Jedi.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Daniel challenged, “Instead of bringing change, you will merely participate in the _same_ actions which have brought about the fall of others? What makes _you_ different? What if your actions lead to what you are trying to _prevent_?”

“Look at what I have accomplished, Skywalker,” Undien gestured around him, straightening, “I have made my mark on the Jedi; I have found a message of _truth_ that resonates with millions of our own Order and beyond. I have turned the Jedi into a political and military power the galaxy has not known. _I am not wrong_. The Jedi, the Alliance, if they fall, it will not be because of _me_.”

_He will not relent. He can never relent._

Undien paced to the end of the holotable, and gave a heavy sigh. “You should understand, Skywalker,” he said quietly, “You and I once had similar mindsets. You purged the galaxy of threats to the Jedi; to the Alliance. Were all of those necessary?”

“Some were,” Daniel answered slowly, “Many were not.”

“And because of what you did, they will never return to threaten us.” Undien nodded. “Answer me truthfully, _Skywalker_ , do you truly regret what you did? Was your entire life before you _changed_ a manifestation of the corruption you fear so much now?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment. “Not all of it. It is not my motivations I regret, but the actions I took to execute them.”

“Men like us do not live with clean hands.” Undien inclined his head. “But it was for the right reasons. That is ultimately what matters. Even now, if you knew there was an imminent threat to those you cared about; to _what_ you cared about.” Undien took a step closer to him. “Would you _wait_ , or would you _act_?”

Daniel remained silent as Undien took another step forward. “Perhaps that is the greatest difference between us, Skywalker. You _see_ what I am doing to the Jedi; you _observe_ , yet you do _nothing_. It is either because you know within yourself that I am _right_ , or that you lack the _conviction_ to do what must be done to prevent the _corruption_ you fear taking hold.” He lifted a hand and the lightsaber on Daniel’s belt flew off – which he instinctively caught.

Undien was close enough now that an ignited blade would impale his heart. “Make a _choice_ , Skywalker,” Undien hissed, “Do not deride what I have accomplished if you lack the _will_ to oppose it. If you feel so strongly that your vision for the Jedi is _correct_ , then _act on it_!”

Another telekinetic tug pulled the hilt ever closer.

_He has corrupted the Order. The source must be removed._

“ _Prove_ your conviction. Or _leave_ if you will not do what is _necessary_!”

_One life for the Order. For the good of the Order._

His thumb was close to the trigger, and he knew it would be over. But another, softer voice pieced the roiling violent thoughts. 

_Look closer._

His eyes drew to the black coils which hung that connected to Undien; the corruption flowed downwards, not from him. Not from a source. _He is not it. Not truly._

Daniel knew what he needed to do now. With a grunt he broke free of Undien and ignited both ends of his lightsaber and flung it upwards, watching as the sky-blue blade severed the cords which connected to Undien. The blade flew back to his hand mere seconds later, which he deactivated and hooked onto his belt. Undien fell to one knee in shock, as the coils began withering.

As they receded, the sound became a roar that vibrated Daniel’s very core. It was enough for him to tease out the word: ‘naal.’ It held no meaning, and the sound returned to a quiet gurgle as the coils shriveled into nothingness and shadow.

“Come now, Skywalker,” he said, standing up with a smile, as the gray growths on his body blackening, “It isn’t that easy. This is who I am now, and you cannot change that.”

“Perhaps,” Daniel answered calmly, “but you are not lost, Undien. Not completely.”

“Remain in your delusion, Skywalker,” Undien sneered, “You cannot change anything. You cannot change _me_.”

“Maybe it’s impossible,” Daniel admitted, “but there is still hope.”

Undien snarled, and the growths turned into a black deep as the void as they consumed his body, and with a flash everything around Daniel ceased to exist. A rush of wind blasted him, colder than Hoth, and he came back to reality, falling to his knees in a dark, damp cave. Lara was immediately beside him, putting an arm around him to help him up.

“I’m back,” he said before she could ask, “I’m fine.”

“You’ve stood there for almost an hour,” she said with a sigh, pulling him into a hug, and he realized that he could feel his body now, “It ended for me when we separated.”

“Yes…” Daniel grimaced. “I—”

“Not here,” Lara hushed him, looking to the water where the opening to exit was above, “Let’s get out of here.”

“I won’t argue with that.” Daniel grimaced. “I’ve had enough of this place.”

* * *

He shared the confrontation with Undien as they walked back, able to summarize it before they reached the Temple and entered the privacy of his chambers. Few noticed their return under the cover of darkness, though Daniel noted that their Imperial tail had attempted to covertly follow once they’d entered the Temple grounds. He’d have to handle that before he left.

“Does this mean what I think it does?” Lara wondered quietly, locking the door.

“I’m not sure.” Daniel placed his lightsaber on the dresser and sat on the bed, staring forward; thinking. “What is clear is that the corruption within the Order is worse than I assumed. A few still remain cleansed… but too many only need a nudge in the wrong direction. This is being perpetuated by many; though the worst sources… they may not be who we thought they were.”

“Sith?” Lara said the forbidden word aloud, sitting opposite him on a chair.

It was a topic of conspiracy and paranoia common among the HoloNet conspiracy theorists, some of which young Jedi listened to and perpetuated through the rumor mill, though no one took such allegations seriously. It was common knowledge among the Council and their respective leadership that the Sith still existed… but were diminished. Certainly not powerful enough to threaten the Jedi.

Or so they thought. This vision threw doubt on that assumption.

“I’m not sure,” Daniel admitted, “I don’t think we should jump to that conclusion… yet. We know they exist, but it could be simpler than that. Sith is a label; an ideology. Power, greed, hate, control… these don’t need labels. I don’t doubt the possibility of Sith infiltrating the Order exists, but I sincerely doubt there are any on the Council.”

“If there were,” Lara said grimly, “Then things would become… bad.”

“ _Catastrophic_ ,” Daniel corrected, “A Sith that could manage to reach such a rank is either an excellent actor… or is not pretending. Both show the Order has drastically failed.”

Both Jedi pondered that, Lara’s brow furrowing as her lekku twitched.

“I do not doubt, however, that there are certain members who have their agenda separate from the Order,” he added after a few moments, “Undien may consider himself a patriot, as does Shartan. Dal, Tocrum, the others… not as much. Regardless, this warrants investigation of some kind. Specifically, Undien’s allies. I think they have a larger influence on him that we assume.”

“Undien leads his cohort.” Lara frowned at the insinuated whitewashing. “He is not blameless.”

“No, he is not,” Daniel agreed, “But at the same time, I wonder how many of his allies are using him, or how much he relies on them. How much he has been influenced.”

“Is that what we do about this?” Lara asked, lacing her fingers together, “Have Yaden perform investigations? Become more aggressive? Act on our own?”

“We both need to sleep and meditate on this,” Daniel suggested, briefly closing his eyes, “One misstep and we could both be in real danger – and fail to find a solution. It’s not enough yet; my journey, at least, is not over. Not nearly. For now, you need to keep quiet about this.”

“I will keep it to myself until you consider your journey complete,” she said slowly, “You have my word.”

“Thank you.” Daniel bowed his head. “I don’t like keeping this to ourselves either, but for now it’s necessary.”

“What next?” Lara wondered after a few moments, appraising him.

Daniel pursed his lips. “I’ve wondered about speaking to Alana about transferring out of the Militant Order. Between this vision and the previous one, I fear that if she stays, Shartan will involve her in his crusade – and she will go along with it without question.”

“You’ll have to be careful if you bring that up,” Lara warned, “She loves you, but she probably wouldn’t like you meddling like that.”

“I don’t know,” Daniel mused, “She’s being pressured to take more Padawans. If she could be given an active role somewhere, with an outlet, it might be better. Perhaps as a Mediator.”

“Under Undien?” Lara questioned, “Is that better than Shartan? At least he isn’t outright suspicious of her. Undien wanted to—”

“I remember,” Daniel muttered, rubbing his forehead, “I’m thinking what would be better than this which she’d also consider. She was recommended for the Militant Order because we thought it would contain and refine her aggression. We should have known better.”

“Perhaps Pon would have an idea?” Lara suggested, “I’m sure he could find a place for her in his Sphere. Maybe as a Scout or Surveyer?”

“I’ll talk to him,” Daniel said. “I’m sure he’s concerned about Shartan’s influence.”

“Beyond that,” Lara said, “Where do you plan to go next? Voss?” She suddenly scowled. “I hate to suggest it… but the Mystics may be helpful, so long as we take their biases into account. Interpreting these visions ourselves is… risky. Neither of us know enough to do it safely. I’ve read enough to know that we could end up making things worse if we act.”

“Agreed. And I intend to speak to them,” Daniel confirmed thoughtfully, “but not yet. There is somewhere else I need to visit first. Perhaps it will give me some more answers or set me on the correct path.”

Lara cocked her head, lekku signaling confusion. “Where?”

“Korriban,” his voice turned melancholy; tinged with sorrow, “I think there’s someone who may be able to help us.”


	3. Korriban - Vision of Wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLotH4’s Note: Omigod, it’s so cool! Bear my child, Xabiar!
> 
> *ahem* I mean… um, good job, buddy…

** SotP Tales - Prelude to Twilight **

* * *

PART III

_ Korriban - Vision of Wrath _

* * *

“You’re not going to believe what we found.”

“We’re on Korriban,” the dry voice of Shalom Imhoff answered, slightly irritated, “You’re going to have to be more specific. Did you find the Tomb of Bane again? Or was it another we’ve stripped before and you forgot?”

Namaan Folk snorted at the dismissive tone. The Captain was in a bad mood; not that he could really be blamed, since this _was_ Korriban, and it had a certain reputation. No matter who you were, everyone felt _wrong_ when they came to this planet. A deep sense of unease appeared and persisted as the rusty dust coated their boots while they walked the barren surface. Unlike other planets, the feeling never fully went away.

You got used to it. Especially when you realized the stories were, ultimately, spookier than the world itself.

In truth, viewed objectively, Korriban was almost _sad_. A planet once (presumably) ruled by beings of power now reduced to overrun and plundered tombs where only whispers of ghosts lingered. Aside from the odd sound and hallucination – more common than most realized in this business – Korriban wasn’t _that_ much different from every other planet they visited.

Everyone stayed away all the same. All except the brave and bold, a number which included themselves.

“See for yourself,” Namaan ignored the sarcastic jab, and clicked on the holoprojector which displayed the image they’d taken, “Saorr can back me up.” He glanced to the towering wookiee behind him. “Won’t you, buddy?”

＜＜He is right, but do not call me that again,＞＞ the wookiee growled, baring his teeth in his direction, ＜＜It felt alien, even on this planet.＞＞

With a furrowed brow, the aging Captain leaned forward, eyes widening when he read the inscription on the tomb before whistling. “Well, well, isn’t _this_ interesting,” he shook his head in a mixture of confusion and awe, “How the hell did we miss this?”

“No one has fully mapped out these tombs that I’m aware of.” Namaan shrugged, shutting off the holoprojector. “The best ones we have are incomplete. Decided to go a new way, walked a while, and ended up right in front of it.”

“A _Skywalker_ tomb on Korriban,” Shalom mused, sitting himself down on a collapsible chair. “Now _that_ I didn’t see coming. Hadn’t even heard of that one. Hey! Von!”

The perpetually irritated mon calamari looked up, annoyed, from his study of several Sith artifacts they’d already found. Namaan privately didn’t care for the alien, and everyone knew the feeling was mutual. Von Marlyn seemed to have an inherent contempt for aliens, even if he did work with them. There was something _strange_ about the Dac species – beyond the physical – who came from the Migrant Fleet. Namaan didn’t know if it was the food, the lifestyle, or something else, but their skin was so dark it was close to black, which deeply contrasted the almost glowing green irides. 

But it was more than the appearance that was strange. He’d worked with other Dac species before, and for the most part, they’d been friendly. The ones from the Migrant Fleet? The nicest they would be was _indifferent_. Most of the time they had a low opinion of all other species, and weren’t afraid to show it – Von was no exception, though for the most part he’d kept to himself. Personally, Namaan believed he wasn’t here voluntarily, but because the Migrant Fleet wanted someone to watch them.

Von knew his Sith lore though. Why the Migrant Fleet was interested in Sith artifacts was not something any of them cared to ask. It was a job; albeit a _risky_ job, but only if you believed the stories. No one liked approaching within three star systems of Korriban, which made business for those who _did_ , quite lucrative. Rumors and superstition had grown to an absurd degree, and only seemed to get _worse_ with time.

Well, they weren’t regular treasure hunters. There was a reason the Migrant Fleet had sought them out, and even before this Skywalker tomb, their plunder had been good – admittedly, thanks to their attaché who had told them where to start looking, and just as he’d said, they’d found enough artifacts to fully satisfy the contract.

While it was a longshot, Namaan hoped this would make the mood of their aquatic friend a little better.

“What?” Von asked in an irritated, gravelly voice, made harsher by the arid climate.

“Marian Skywalker,” Shalom said, “Or Amber-Skywalker if you want to be specific. Ever heard of her?”

“No,” Von shook his head, though his voice had shifted from hostile to curious, “The name is unfamiliar. Why?”

“Because Folk and Saorr found a tomb for her. Here.” Shalom indicated the tunnels they’d come from. “I don’t know if the Fleet—”

“Show me what you found,” Von demanded instantly, voice turning completely serious, “Jedi are not buried on this world.”

“To be fair, it could be a different Skywalker,” Namaan said rhetorically as he showed the image to Von, “Realistically, do you think it’s _not_ connected.”

The large eyes of Von stared unblinking at the image, taking the holocom into his own palm and examining it from several angles before swiveling to the human and wookiee. “While Skywalker is not a completely uncommon name, it would be quite the coincidence. Did you do anything to it?”

“The tomb? Nope, against protocol,” Namaan refuted, “We don’t touch unopened tombs unprepared. Just took the holo and came back. It looked in good condition, especially considering the state of everything else. It’s either only a few decades old, or someone is maintaining it.”

＜＜Or both,＞＞ Saorr suggested.

“That too,” Namann agreed, “Either way, certainly interesting. Did I forget an important Skywalker who was a Sith?”

“Anakin?” Shalom asked, leaning on a couple of stacked crates.

“Who I will note is not a woman,” Namaan corrected sarcastically, “Granted, I don’t keep up with the family, so maybe I missed the one Sith outcast.”

“Assuming she was one, and from the same family.” Von rubbed his chin with a rubbery hand. “I have little idea why the Jedi would bury their own on this planet, but I should have heard of a female Skywalker who was a Sith. I will need to research this further.”

“This is your op,” Shalom said to the mon calamari, “You want us to extract this too?”

“We have the capabilities, and my superiors will be extremely interested in this,” Von affirmed with a quick nod, “Assuming undamaged samples can be extracted and full scans acquired, you will be paid double. Any additional artifacts within will be additional bonuses. The Admiralty will be pleased with what you have brought them.”

“Lucky find on the last day.” Shalom let out a sigh of relief, then clicked on his comlink. “All hands on deck for this one. Mast, Aylrila, come in.”

A few seconds passed and a female voice answered. _“Yeah, what do you want?”_

“Status?”

 _“Found a couple of tablets, a defunct holocron, a few old lightsabers. Some stuff others missed, I guess,”_ Asiel Mast, their mechanic and tech specialist answered, _“There’s an infestation of k’lor’slugs around this tomb for some reason. We’re thinking of coming back and marking this as something to do later.”_

“Was about to suggest the same,” Shalom agreed, “We’ve found something big and are going to extract it, then get off-world within the next day. We get this done, we get paid double with extra bonuses. Von’s happy, and we can all leave.”

Namann smirked when he heard the joyous roar of Aylrila, their other wookiee crewmate. She hated this planet more than any of them.

_“Glad to hear it, Captain. We’ll be back within the hour.”_

“I guess you were wrong,” Namaan said to Von, walked over to one of the coolers and popped off the cap of a cheap Corellian wine, a celebration of a job well done, “There was no danger at all.”

The mon calamari appraised him, tilting his head and clasping both hands before his body. “You can never be too certain with the worlds of Jedi and Sith.”

“A very intelligent approach,” drawled a deep voice, causing them all to immediately react.

Namaan dropped the wine bottle, which shattered on the sandy stone floor while his hand went to his pistol. Shalom and Saorr reacted the same way, drawing a pistol and bowcaster respectively. Von placed his hands around two objects on his belt Namaan assumed were grenades.

All fixated on a figure leaning against the wall, not far away from their own camp. Namaan had never seen something like him; definitely a humanoid species, but one with crimson skin, piercing red eyes, and short fleshy tendrils hanging from his chin, the corners of his mouth, and along the jaw. Where eyebrows would be seemed to be a thick and hard tendril that ended in rubbery points.

Well-groomed hair was pulled behind the ears and fell just above his neck, and the alien was _massive_. Not quite as tall as a wookiee, but far larger than any human he’d seen before. His armor was black and silver with an unknown insignia emblazoned on the chest, and a deep red cape that fell to his ankles. Despite that, the alien had an amused smile on his face, and his posture was not threatening despite his demonic appearance.

Namaan’s first instinct was that this _thing_ had accidentally been released from a tomb, but a quick glance to the belt and the crossed arms showed no lightsaber. There was also something visually _off_ about the alien beyond the unsettling appearance; an almost sparkling quality to his form. The alien also wasn’t concerned with the fact their weapons were trained on him. “At ease,” he said with a nonchalant wave of his hand, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I wouldn’t rate your chances highly if you were,” Shalom said with the artificial calmness of a man who’d been in this situation before, “Who are you?”

“A friendly guardian,” he smiled, the red eyes and dim lighting making the phrase more sinister, “Now, I can’t say I’m especially pleased with you raiding from this planet, but considering whose graves you’ve robbed, I’m not going to get defensive over your actions. That being said, I cannot say the same for what you’re planning now.”

“＜＜You live here?＞＞” Saorr growled in confusion, ignoring the latter part of his greeting.

“Not exactly by choice.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “But I’m the lone guardian of a planet I have no interest in protecting, for people who are long gone.”

A red bolt shot unexpectedly from behind Namaan which went directly into the head of the man. Only it didn’t do anything; it impacted on the far wall leaving a scorch mark. An attack with the effectiveness of shooting a hologram. Namaan glanced back to see Von lowering his own blaster and becoming calmer. “A spirit. Sith.”

“Well done, you figured it out,” the man mocked with a clapping gesture, “Was it the skin that gave it away? Contrary to what you seem to believe, the stories you’ve heard of this planet are very much true. You’ve just been fortunate enough to not stumble upon the deep tombs – or stolen enough to attract the _attention_ of others.”

“Interesting,” Shalom lowered his weapon, though their wookiee compatriot did not. “Do you have a name?”

“Darth Vauner, Dark Lord of the Sith, and the Emperor’s Wrath of Lord Vitiate,” he answered with a short bow, “Not that I’d expect you to know.” He glanced toward Von. “Except you, perhaps.”

“The title is familiar, the name is not,” Von said flatly, “Is there a reason you’re speaking to us now?”

“Yes,” Vauner confirmed, taking a few phantom steps forward, “This is your first and only warning to leave right now. Take your artifacts and leave, otherwise, all of you will be dead within hours. Take your loot, but leave the tomb of Marian Skywalker alone.”

Shalom cocked his head. “And just _why_ would we do that?”

“So you stay alive,” Vauner answered as if it were obvious, “I’m not doing this because I care about you, but because my acquaintance who is coming would likely experience some guilt if I neglected to warn you before you did something very, very stupid.”

“Who is he?” Shalom inquired, “A Jedi? Why would he care about the tomb?”

“More importantly,” Von interrupted, “Why is one on _Korriban_?”

“None of your concern.” Vauner waved a hand. “Let’s say he has a connection, and will be rather _incensed_ if you fools plunder it. He’ll already be displeased if you break into the tomb, I can’t imagine how he’ll feel if you take her _body_ too.”

“We are capable of handling a single Jedi,” Von said in a low voice, motioning to a cage behind him, “Walk over there, spirit. We came prepared for such an eventuality.”

Vauner maintained his smile, not even looking over to the ysalamir cage. “Not this one, I’m afraid. Leave with your lives or don’t leave at all. I’ve said all I wish to.”

A moment later the spirit vanished into nothing, leaving all of them alone.

Namaan looked to Shalom whose face was tight and deep in thought. “Think he was telling the truth?”

“Don’t know. I somehow doubt that Daniel Skywalker is going to show up here, but it’s possible that there is some Jedi coming to the planet,” their Captain said slowly, holstering his weapon. “Regardless, I’m not taking chances. We’re not quitting this job; definitely not because a spirit told us to. Besides.” He glanced to Von. “I don’t suppose the Fleet would pay extra for a live Jedi, would they?”

* * *

As it turned out, their fears of the tomb being trapped were for naught, and they experienced the exceptionally rare privilege of opening a tomb to discover not only was it intact, but _also_ contained the individual presumably buried. The skeleton of this presumed Skywalker was largely intact; more than enough remained that they would be able to easily acquire DNA and genetic samples – which they had done.

Now, what the Migrant Fleet would do with that was an open question. Namaan was more on an archeological high from this experience. This really was a historic find, and the mystery surrounding it made it all the more alluring. Not only that, but buried within was presumably her (still working) lightsaber, a few personal items (mostly jewelry), and an unopened physical letter.

Of course, Asiel was more interested in the spirit. “So, it really looked real?” she asked as they placed the artifacts in sealed containers.

“A bit more sparkly, but for the most part, yes,” Namaan answered.

“Interesting.” Asiel chewed her lip. “The stories always described them as being transparent and blue.”

“Some probably are,” Namaan rationalized, “Not this one though.”

They finished stacking the crates and boxes; Namaan dusted his hands off. “This was a very good haul. We’ll have to come back. There’s still plenty here.”

“Well, the spirit did warn against that, didn’t he?” Asiel shot a glance to where their uninvited guest had stood. “He might have been messing with us, but this planet is creepy enough. I’d prefer we not come back.”

“Don’t worry.” Shalom waved absentmindedly, marking things off on a datapad. “We’re not coming back for a while. We’ve got enough work lined up for the next year. If the Migrant Fleet wants us again, they’ll need to pay up.”

“Duly noted,” Von said dryly as he fed the ysalamir.

It was the one living creature who he seemed to care at least a little for. Namaan disliked the creature; it was ugly, slept all the time, and ate plants the few moments it was awake. A thoroughly useless animal, if not for its ability to dispel the Force.

Still didn’t make it less ugly.

“So are we going to open this up?” Asiel plucked the unopened letter from the open container, as they hadn’t found a good place to put it. “Or does the Fleet have a policy against that?”

“Your payment will not change.” Von straightened, and gave the mirialan a mildly irritated look. “If you _must_ look at it, ensure that you do not damage it.”

She looked to Shalom, who gave his tacit approval. She opened it up delicately, and her face immediately fell. “The hell?” She held it up, and Namaan vaguely saw symbols which very clearly weren’t Galactic Basic written on it. “Folk, this is your specialty, I guess.”

He did have a gift for languages, but there were limits. He knew quite a bit of Sithese, Old Tythonian, and other languages related to relics, as well as the main Outer Rim ones. While he couldn’t speak it well, he could read Cheunh easily enough. Even then, it took him a few minutes looking at the page before he realized what he was looking at.

“It’s… _Rakatan_ ,” he said, befuddled, more to himself than everyone else.

“What?” Asiel inquired.

“ _What_?” Von demanded in a far more intense manner.

“The language.” He held up the letter. “Rakatan. You barely see this, and as far as I know, there isn’t even a complete dictionary on the HoloNet. I think only the Jedi and a few enthusiasts and specialists can understand or teach it. Not me though; you’d have to find an expert to translate this.”

“Can you understand anything?” Von demanded.

“Only a few words.” Namaan looked to the demanding mon calamari, raising an eyebrow. “Can you? Since you seem interested.”

“If the rakata are connected, there could be significant implications,” Von breathed, rubbing his hands together, “The Infinite Empire once controlled Korriban, perhaps this Skywalker was connected to them. Perhaps the first of a dynasty…”

“Let’s not get too excited, and correct me if I’m wrong.” Namaan lifted a hand. “But the Infinite Empire was destroyed _thousands_ of years ago, or longer. This tomb is barely a quarter of a century at best. If there was some kind of stasis tech, we would have found it.”

“I suspect the letter may shed more light on it,” Von muttered, turned, contemplating this new development, “The mystery deepens.”

“I think we’ve done a good day’s work.”

Shalom set his datapad down, and Namaan didn’t know if he was speaking because he was ready to sleep, or to stop their mon cal escort from going off into a rambling HoloNet conspiracy theorist rancor pit. Namaan had read _way too_ many theories about the rakata, like how they weren’t dead, but were actually controlling the most influential beings in galactic society behind the scenes or every single technological advancement was due to corporations building off of rakatan technology.

It was almost a joke at this point. If there was a conspiracy boogeyman to point to, it was _always_ the rakata and their Infinite Empire. Unexplained tech? Rakata. Person acting suspiciously? Rakata. Unexplained galactic phenomenon? The rakata cause it. Major galactic event? Guess what, the rakata were behind it.

It would almost be comical, if these idiots didn’t amass such large followings. Granted, it was free entertainment for him, but if you believed even a portion of the conspiracies, the rakata were the roaches of the galaxy. They just wouldn’t die, but still had enough power to make life complicated for everyone else.

If one bought into that, of course.

If the long-extinct rakata were so influential, they really needed to do a better job.

＜＜Where is Aylrila?＞＞ Saorr mewled, looking toward the corridor where she’d taken guard.

“Probably wandered to shoot a k’lor’slug that got too close.” Shalom picked up his comlink. “Aylrila, come in and return to camp.” No response, no static, no acknowledgement at all. Shalom’s brow furrowed. “Aylrila, come in.”

Von stiffened after a few seconds of silence and reached for his weapon. “The Jedi… he is here.”

“Impossible.” Shalom shook his head. “Aylrila can’t be taken out without at least getting a warning off. If their sound doesn’t give threats away, the smell does. Not even a Jedi could sneak up on her.”

“We should prepare all the same.” Von pursed his lips and brought a small silver stick to them, breathing in deeply from it before breaking into a hacking coughing fit. Shaking off his discomfort, he strode behind the ysalamir cage and placed it on its side, slipping his arms through the straps to hold the cage on his back. “Stay nearby if you want to live.”

“Appreciated, but we can all handle one Jedi,” Asiel said, pulling out her own pistol.

“Have you fought a Jedi before?” Von demanded, “They are not like us. Bravado will not kill them. Only strategy and technology will.”

＜＜Let’s—＞＞ Saorr broke off into a roar as the massive corpse of Aylrila was thrown from the tunnel into where they were camped.

Namaan knew wookiee expressions well enough to tell that she’d died completely off-guard. Her body was intact, but he saw the black flesh and fur where she’d suffered a direct strike to the heart.

None of them wasted time, and began firing into the tunnel which Namaan could swear had grown much darker. Lighting was never great in the tombs, but they’d set up some temporary lights along the way. He saw now that those had been destroyed… but it wasn’t darkness that existed in the tunnel now. It seemed to be something darker; ethereal.

Most of the bolts vanished into the darkness, but the dim lighting from several of them revealed the faintest outline within the void. A shadow that stood tall; somehow a shade darker than the blackness around him. A blue lightsaber blade suddenly ignited and a few swipes faster than Namaan could follow battered several bolts back toward them, and all of them dove for cover as the beam vanished.

It soon became clear that the bolts weren’t intended for them, as they slammed into most of the light fixtures they’d erected, plunging their camp into near-darkness. Namaan couldn’t find the shadow anymore, and that fact amplified the fear that had taken root in his heart.

“Stay close to me,” Von said tightly, as he threw some of the odd grenades in the direction the shadow had stood, “He cannot reach you otherwise.”

“Seems to me he can reach us just fine,” Asiel hissed, though they all stayed close.

The few remaining light sources that weren’t in their immediate vicinity shattered for no obvious reason, and the darkness encroached around them. This wasn’t simple darkness though, to Namaan’s naked eye this darkness seemed _alive_.

“This can’t be normal,” Namaan said, more to himself as he aimed the pistol wherever he heard a shuffle or a sound, “It wasn’t this dark before.”

Hearts pounding and adrenaline rushing, they stood in uncomfortable silence as the darkness was only barely kept at bay by their light sources.

“There!” Asiel screamed and they swung their weapons around, and Namaan just seemed to barely catch a glimpse of the shadow dashing behind them.

Red bolts lit up the darkness, but the shadow had dissipated.

“Von, it might be a good idea to just get out now,” Shalom said worriedly, “Von?”

With a start, they all realized that Von was gone, and the ysalamir lie dead in its cage, the long tongue of the creature hanging out.

“Oh no,” Asiel breathed, her green skin growing paler, “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”

“Alright, we leave,” Shalom commanded with a tight voice, “Forget the artifacts, we get out right _now_!”

“Yes, si—” Namaan began, when before his eyes, their Captain was suddenly yanked into the darkness by an invisible hand without so much as a scream.

All of them blasted the area he’d vanished into, but to no avail. They saw absolutely no trace, and heard no sound. The sound of a lightsaber igniting behind them made him jump in panic and scramble away as they beheld another haunting sight.

A sinister blue blade sprouted from Saorr’s thick chest, and the shadow was just barely perceptible behind him, a gesture pushed the dying wookiee aside as it beheld the last survivors. Asiel screamed in terror and fired the last bolts of her pistol frantically while the shadow simply motioned upward and she went flying into the air, and then slammed down twice as hard, shattering her body and mercifully killing her on the spot.

Namaan didn’t have any other choice.

He ran.

He ran into the darkness, on a primal level knowing he was doomed, and the shadow that was hunting him would find him, but he had no other hope. It was so dark now that he couldn’t see his own hands in front of him, let alone the path. He stumbled blindly in the dark, relying on his incomplete memory and warped perception of where he was to try and guide him.

In his fear-addled state, he wondered if they’d all been wrong, and _this_ was something they had unwittingly unleashed from the tomb.

An ice-cold hand suddenly grabbed his neck from behind and lifted him into the air, and before he could utter a sound, the white-hot blade pierced his heart, and he stared in near-disbelief at the blue beam that sprouted from his chest.

_I thought it would have hurt more._

The hand around his throat squeezed and his skin broke, his neck shattered, and his windpipe crumpled. With an almost careless motion, he was dropped to the ground like a forgotten sack of trash. Air failing to come to his lungs, Namaan Folk, the last survivor of the _Distant Recovery_ , died on the cold stones within the tombs of Korriban, alone and in the darkness.

* * *

Standing above the body, the shadow looked around, as if making sure it was finished. The sapphire blade dissipated as the void returned to a natural darkness and Daniel stepped out of the shadow which dematerialized behind him, hooking the lightsaber back on his belt with a sharp motion. He had not expected to find much on Korriban, but he’d _certainly_ not expected to find a team of raiders looting the grave of his wife.

He strode over to the camp, looking over the corpses. Mirialan, human, wookiee, mon calamari – one from the Migrant Fleet, it looked like. Odd. He knew he should feel some guilt about striking so swiftly and lethally; without even offering a chance of surrender. It reminded him of his missions many, many years ago.

They’d never stood a chance.

But he couldn’t muster up the sympathy. He’d killed many people who didn’t deserve to die, but these… thieves… weren’t among them. Lara would be disappointed, but he suspected she would understand to a degree.

The planet made it easier. Death clung to Korriban, and the cycle was perpetuated by all who remained on it. Not even Jedi were exempt. One could not come to this planet and refrain from causing death in some form – be it wildlife, raiders, or Sith.

He wondered if he would have made the same decision if this happened somewhere else.

He knelt down and took off the comlink, and copied the encrypted datapad the mon calamari had for later reading. If the Migrant Fleet was interested in Korriban, he wanted to know why. Grimacing, he looked back at what they’d stripped from Marian’s tomb. As expected, they’d taken out all the valuables, her lightsaber, even the final letter he’d written.

Several vials and containers – presumably containing samples – also laid nearby. With a scowl, he threw out a hand and sent them flying into the nearest wall, amplified by the Force, where they shattered into splinters and their contents spilled onto the dust and stone. He gathered the belongings and began making his way to the tomb itself. A few minutes of walking in the dark began calming him.

Or maybe it was the tomb itself.

The oppressive and primal atmosphere of the planet that covered him like a blanket lessened as he approached. He didn’t feel _calm_ , necessarily… but more… _at ease_. She’d wanted to be buried here for this reason. To create, in death, a small corner of this oppressive planet where the light could thrive. He was glad it was still here; he had feared the planet would corrupt it if left for too long.

But it appeared that if it was untouched, it would endure.

The raiders were at least professional, it turned out. The stone top to the tomb had been neatly placed to the side and there wasn’t any additional damage to the tomb itself. The smell he would have expected had likely dissipated before he’d come, and the only thing left inside were bones and a few scraps of flesh and cloth.

He sealed the letter again, and placed it in the tomb along with her belongings. Closing his eyes and taking a breath, he stepped back and lifted the stone top with the Force, and sealed her tomb once more. He spent a few more minutes relighting the area around the small room, the lights having burned out since his last visit.

When that was finished, he stood close to the tomb again, and laid a hand on the warm surface. _I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them sooner._

He didn’t know if she was paying attention, but she was one with the Force. He felt she was listening in some way. It wasn’t exactly a warm feeling that washed over him, but he felt more… _content_.

“If it makes you feel better, I did warn them,” a familiar voice said from behind him. Daniel turned, and as expected, Darth Vauner was behind him, leaning against the wall. “Good work, by the way. Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell them it was _me_?”

“Not _explicitly_ ,” he clarified, eyes glittering in the reflective light, amplified by the occasional sparkling of his ethereal form, “but I practically spelled it out for them. If they couldn’t figure out that _maybe_ Daniel Skywalker would be upset if they raided the tomb of another Skywalker, than they deserved to die for sheer stupidity alone.”

Daniel allowed a thin smile. “Fair enough. Good to see you’re still around, my Lord.”

“ _Please_ don’t call me that again,” Vauner said dryly, “That’s just _wrong_ coming from a Jedi. Nonetheless, the feeling is mutual, even if I’m not sure why you’re back here now. It’s been…or at least _feels_ like… years.”

“Four, to be precise,” Daniel clarified, “Events move fast.”

“I’m afraid my knowledge remains confined to what happens on this planet.” Vauner shook his head. “Are your Jedi continuing to be a problem?”

“To a degree.” Daniel fiddled with the lightsaber on his belt. “But I’m confident the Force will guide me to a solution.”

“And your great-granddaughter?”

“Alana is alive and well. She has a Padawan now.”

The red eyes of the spirit glittered. “Good. From what you’ve told me she reminds me somewhat of myself when I was younger.”

“Is that right?” Daniel asked dryly, “She’s not quite Sith material.”

Vauner smiled thinly. “And truthfully, neither was I. At least not the kind of Sith they wanted.”

The relationship he had with this particular spirit was certainly one of the most interesting he had developed. He wouldn’t say either of them were _friends_ , but there was an understanding between them. Despite appearances, Darth Vauner was a fairly friendly and reasonable individual, whose past he largely kept to himself, but it was clear that he was not like most Sith.

As he had said.

More importantly, he’d been helpful when Daniel had come to Korriban previously. It was in large part thanks to him that the expedition to Korriban where Marian died hadn’t been a complete failure, and since then, he’d been a useful guide. Out of respect, Daniel hadn’t probed him too much – though now, he felt it was the time.

“If you’re here because of the Force, Jedi, I’d be wary of relying on it,” Vauner warned, shaking his head again, “The Force has no will, and if it does, it is malevolent, selfish, and vindictive. If it is leading you, view what you see with suspicion.”

“Oh?” Daniel clasped his hands together. “Speaking from experience?”

Vauner gave a thin, cold smile. “Unfortunately, I am, Jedi. I’ve seen enough to know the Force has no more agenda than other aspects of the reality we inhabit. It is manipulated by others to serve them, and a curse to whoever is unfortunate enough to be caught in the grasp of those who command it – who I will note are not you or I. But don’t dodge the question – why are you here?”

“To speak to you,” Daniel answered, inclining his head, “I think you may be able to help me.”

“Do tell. I’m listening.”

“I’ve visited a couple planets already.” Daniel began to pace. “Dagobah. Ahch-To. I’ve seen several visions, and what’s clear in each is that there is something threatening and corrupting the Jedi. Perhaps beyond us. I’ve refrained from asking before, but I know the Sith are still around and likely come to Korriban. If you would be willing, I would like to know about them.”

Vauner appraised him for a few seconds, unblinking, before stroking the tendril on his chin. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner, Jedi. I’m afraid that what I can tell you is limited, at best. I will share what I know, but the Sith these days are not especially fond of me, nor I them. If what I can share contributes to their destruction, well…” His smile turned more sinister. “I can certainly help.”

“Curious.” Daniel was intrigued by the implications. “I thought Sith valued the wisdom of the old Masters.”

“Only if what they hear reaffirms their beliefs,” Vauner clarified smugly, “Yet I can tell you several things. The Sith are more organized and developed than anyone knows. They are led by an ancient Sith, Lady Vathila to be specific.”

A name. Already progress, though a name that was unfamiliar. “I’ve never heard of her.”

“Not surprising,” Vauner mused thoughtfully, “Very secretive, I’ve only personally met her a few times, and she is just as deluded as the others. A woman of power for certain, I suspect few in your Order could match her, but like many of her kind, far too self-centered and obsessed with her own power to ever succeed.”

“Oddly critical, coming from you,” Daniel said curiously, “I would have thought you would be more supportive.”

“I certainly can be, Jedi,” Vauner added, “but as much as these Sith say they have changed, the truth is that they have not. They organize themselves around the great Sith of our history. Sith who are _dead_ , I will point out, and every single one of them had fatal flaws in their beliefs. You cannot tell me you have overcome the flaws of the Sith and base your entire philosophy around Jadus, Krayt, and Plagueis. At best, they have a temporary alliance that will inevitably collapse.”

He raised a finger. “If there is one thing I know, it’s that these Sith are plotting against each other even now. In their arrogance, they no doubt believe victory is assured. I appear to be the only one cursed with evolving beyond an idiotic fixation on the Jedi and personal power. Anathema for a Sith, but necessary for survival…” he trailed off, then sighed, “Though I no longer think that matters. The truth, Jedi, is that the Sith are ultimately irrelevant, as is your Order.”

Daniel frowned, confused, this was a direction he had not expected. “Explain.”

Vauner gestured to the tunnel. “Walk with me then, Jedi. This story will not be short.”

* * *

“What do you know about Emperor Vitiate?”

Both Jedi and spirit walked the dark tombs, the latter focused straight ahead while the other glanced to his companion.

“He ruled the Sith Empire for centuries, and from what I remember, was a largely apathetic ruler – if very powerful,” Daniel recalled, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but he was killed by a Jedi, yes?”

Vauner gave a short laugh. “False, Jedi, but to be fair, the Sith were equally misinformed. Vitiate was indeed _apathetic_ as even the Sith complained, while they plotted and schemed. When I was merely an Apprentice, I also held a low opinion of our Emperor. When Jadus held the Empire by the throat and later took the mantle, I was certain Vitiate had fled or had died.”

“And that wasn’t true?”

“No,” he said flatly, with a faraway look in his eyes, “Vitiate… he was not like anything else in the galaxy. It was less he was apathetic as much as we were simply all beneath his notice. Like insects or animals he observed for amusement. The Empire was simply a tool for him; an excuse to enact his true agenda. Contrary to the belief at the time, the Emperor was very much active in the galaxy.”

Daniel heard scuttling in the background, and saw the creatures scurry away when he looked in their direction. “Doing what?”

“Truthfully?” Vauner sighed. “I’m still not sure. I’ve thought about it for a long time. The Jedi believed he intended to consume the galaxy. When he spoke to me… I believe he was gathering power for something. To break some unknown and incomprehensible barrier, but that required death on a massive scale. The Emperor’s Wrath was his greatest tool, and the Jedi you spoke of? He killed him.” A pause. “Thus, he needed a replacement. I just so happened to fit his criteria.”

“You speak of him like he isn’t mortal,” Daniel said carefully, “Even now, after he is dead.”

“Vitiate was _not_ mortal, Jedi,” Vauner disputed harshly with a violent shake of the head, “The first time I was brought before him, he was… _overpowering_. He was the embodiment of the Force; a vortex of such power and authority that the spirits of lesser Jedi and Sith broke their mortal shells when they went before him, while the minds of those Force-blind warped beyond recognition, if they did not expire on the spot. He held power over life and death, those who found his favor he could bring back again and again from the Netherrealm. He was viewed as a god, and for good reason.”

“Impossible,” Daniel shook his head, “The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis is a myth. One cannot bring someone back from the dead.”

“I can’t speak for Sith legend, Jedi,” Vauner stated fiercely, “but I can recount what I saw with my own eyes. Vitiate did not bring their bodies back, but placed their spirits into new physical shells. I witnessed this many times – and in the process, bound them to himself. They were incapable of betrayal; they were his Imperial Guard. Imbued with his power; capable of performing feats even Sith Lords could not match. They were _unnatural_.”

Vauner’s face hardened. “I do not exaggerate, Jedi. Not about what he was capable of. It took the entirety of the Jedi Order to stop his schemes, and ultimately, Vitiate was brought low by hubris. His ‘Voice’ was killed, and he directed me to lead the Empire to greatness and destroy the Republic – including the Jedi.”

“But there was another who had taken over, yes?” Daniel recalled, “Jadus?”

“Yes,” Vauner’s voice was oddly melancholic, “Vitiate considered him the greatest Sith the Empire had produced, ironically enough. Likely a reason he left his fate to me. My first act was going before the Dark Council and striking down my former Master who was pretending to speak for Vitiate. Jadus and I spoke afterwards, and came to an agreement.”

“Involving what?”

“I wouldn’t remove him from his position, in return for several concessions to make _improvements_ to the Empire,” a self-satisfied smile appeared on his face, “As well as cutting down on some of Jadus’s more _paranoid_ actions. The concessions I demanded involved the culling of corrupt Sith and Imperial officials, a reformation of Sith training on Korriban, and the abolition of slavery.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you were able to do that. Or that you would want to.”

“Oh, the Dark Council was quite ready to skin me alive for what I did,” he chuckled, “Unfortunately, they knew I acted with Vitiate’s authority. As for why, well, when your wife was once a slave, it colors your perception on the entire practice. The reaction the Republic had when they heard was quite amusing as well.”

It was fascinating to Daniel how such an individual, despite growing up in an institution like the Sith Order, was closer to a Jedi in his actions than many living Jedi today. “It appears knowledge about much of that era is incomplete. I had little idea.”

“What? No question on if I’m lying?” Vauner snorted and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Ultimately irrelevant. What we failed to account for was Revan returning, and he was responsible for sealing our fate.”

“Revan?” Daniel blinked. “As in _Darth_ Revan? The one who killed Malak and fought against Lord Amaurth?”

“The very same, Jedi,” Vauner confirmed, “Vitiate had kept him alive for reasons that were never shared. The Jedi freed him, and he turned a rakatan factory against us. The Republic also fell into his crosshairs as well, so when our Empire lay in shambles after his war, the Republic was no better. We had no Emperor, our capital was essentially destroyed, Vitiate was… elsewhere, and a power vacuum was forming.” He sighed. “All pointless in the end.”

“Why?”

“That was when I learned what Vitiate had been distracted with,” he said grimly, “The Eternal Empire of Zakuul; a far Outer Rim power that had been observing and waiting for the perfect time to strike. Led by Emperor Valkorian, one of the only entities who I’ve encountered who I believe could have killed Vitiate.”

“Considering how you’ve described him, that seems difficult to believe,” Daniel said, “Another just as powerful?”

“I should know, Jedi.” Vauner glanced to his companion with a weariness in his eyes. “He’s the one who killed me.”

“Ah,” Daniel said slowly, “I see.”

“I don’t think you do, Jedi.” Vauner motioned forward, and Daniel realized they were near the entrance of the tombs. “But I can do better than tell you. I can show you.”

* * *

It didn’t take long for Daniel to theorize what Vauner was going to do, and the implications were both… concerning and fascinating. “A vision of the past, yes? One you can show at will?”

“Everything is connected through the Force, Jedi, for better or worse,” Vauner said as they walked up the crumbling steps of the old Sith training grounds, “I’ve been stuck here long enough to figure out some things. My death – as well as the deaths of many Sith that day – created a large enough impact that I can experience it whenever I wish, as well as a little before, and a little after. It is unfortunately not as… _expansive_ as I would like.”

“I see.” Daniel nodded, thinking. “Seeing yourself die…”

“Isn’t as traumatic as you think,” Vauner finished with a shrug, “Death tends to have less of an impact when your body is immaterial. Besides… this is my only opportunity to see certain people I cared for.”

“Ah.”

Both of them walked into several ruins, and Vauner stopped. “Fortunately, I don’t need to be in the same location the memory takes place, but I suspect you may want to walk around during this. Recreating similar confines is… useful for preventing you from accidentally walking into a wall or off a cliff.”

Daniel could feel the Force growing and shifting around him as the vision slowly materialized. He thought of asking a question, but decided to withhold it for the time being as new sounds and sights became perceptible. The room they were now within was still a tan stone, but much newer and furnished with banners of the old Sith Empire, holocrons and artifacts that lined cubicles in the walls. Harsh electric lighting cascaded from the ceiling, while burgundy rugs lined the stone floor.

Near the end of the room was a metal desk, at which a number of individuals were sitting or standing around. Vauner was present, and next to him was another massive Sith in armor, with spikes jutting out of his shoulder pads and other places along his armor. A metal mask with a dark visor covered his face, and a crimson hood was pulled over it.

“Darth Marr,” Vauner said quietly, seeing him fixate on the figure, “After Jadus died, he and Nox were considered the immediate candidates to replace him. As it turned out, neither would have the time to take control.”

Around the table were several other Sith, many of those without masks displayed degraded physical features, showcasing the corruption of the dark side. Some wore armor, others wore robes. At the entrances and exits, as well as the corners of the room, were individuals who Daniel initially believed were the Imperial Guard.

However, they didn’t match the descriptions from the texts and artifacts that had survived. Their armor was more distinctly Imperial, with the helmets especially based on old Sith soldiers, and the cape which fell from their shoulders was a deep purple instead of red, as were the accents on their armor, the base color of which was that of the void. Perhaps a specialized Imperial Guard then? Though what he found interesting was that some appeared to be soldiers with conventional weapons and some were Sith with lightsabers hooked to their waists.

“Nox has failed to defend Dromund Kaas,” the voice of Darth Marr was curt, blunt; the end of each sentence punctuated with a furious rasp. Anger and exasperation seemed to linger on the end of every word. “The planet has fallen. The war is effectively lost.”

The mood at the table fluctuated between furious, concerned, and tense as the room broke into whispers.

“And Nox?” a different Sith asked a few seats down from Marr.

“Dead or captured,” Marr answered flatly, “Her fate is irrelevant now.”

Vauner scowled where he was standing, beginning to pace behind the table. “Vaylin?”

“Reports indicate she took Kaas City personally,” one of the unknown guard, a burly man with a pointed beard and short braided hair whose helmet was set on the table said, tossing a datapad to Vauner, his voice crisp and military, “Supposedly cut through the few left on the Dark Council like they were nothing.”

“And the Jedi?” an armored Sith demanded from the end of the table.

“They are dealing with the brothers,” the unknown Guard informed, “We don’t have enough resources or manpower to figure out what the hell the Republic is facing anymore. Imperial Intelligence is effectively destroyed now, and Emperor only knows where Cipher Nine vanished to. I doubt the Jedi are doing any better than we are.”

“It _does_. _Not_. _Matter_ ,” Marr ground out, clenching a fist; his entire body tense as a viper on the chair he sat in, “We know where they are coming next. Be it from Vaylin or the brothers, their victory will not be complete until they take Korriban. Until we have been _eradicated_.”

“We’re as prepared as we can be, milord,” the man inclined his head, “Every Sith and soldier left stands prepared to defend Korriban. Doesn’t matter if the capital is gone, we are ready to fight to the bitter end.”

“Indeed,” Vauner agreed, and crossed his arms, “I have not received direction from the Emperor. He is alive, and I will draw upon his power, but that is all I know. We are effectively on our own.”

The door slid open and another of the guard rushed in, a woman with long brown hair, pale skin, and a double-bladed lightsaber at her hip. She performed a hasty bow before Vauner. “Wrath, a Zakuulian ship has entered the system and is on approach to the planet.”

Vauner fixed her with narrowed eyes. “One ship?”

“Yes, milord.”

“Vaylin most likely,” the man said with a snort, “Arrogant bitch.”

“No. She is powerful, not stupid,” Marr interrupted curtly, “She would not arrive without an army. I do not know why…” he trained off unexpectedly, and Daniel could feel the Force suddenly crystalize, even through the vision, as Marr made the connection. “ _Valkorian_.”

“Coming here? Alone?” another of the armored Sith, a miraluka, demanded incredulously.

“He means to destroy us personally.” The lightsaber on Marr’s belt flew to his armored hand as he rose from his seat. “Report to battle stations at once!”

There was a rush of affirmations and clacking of boots as Sith and soldiers rushed out to prepare the defense of the planet. Daniel watched, detached and fascinated at this witnessing of history.

The unknown guard also filed out, except for the woman and man who had seemed to be in command. Vauner approached both of them.

“All forces are in place,” the woman said, “but if it’s Valkorian…”

“I’m aware,” Vauner said, crimson lips pursed tight, “I am not taking chances anymore. Take Vette and get her far away from here.”

“And _leave_ you? _Now_?” the woman demanded, aghast, “If you send one of us, send Pierce. You need me here.”

“Oi, Wrath, don’t you dare. I’m in charge of this lot, and you can do without her a lot more than me,” the man presumably called ‘Pierce’ interjected, with a sharp glare at the woman, “Don’t argue, Jaesa, I outrank you here and the Wrath gave a direct order. Besides, I’m not helpless thanks to our Emperor.” He nodded his head toward Vauner. “And his Wrath, of course.”

“We can beat him, I’m sure of it,” Jaesa – he assumed that was her name – insisted, “One man cannot kill all of us. Not one who is not Vitiate.”

“Revan showed us the flaw of that logic,” Vauner flatly dismissed with a wave, “I have reasons for this decision. Broonmark can protect her physically, but she will need someone she can trust implicitly. And to find others who she can trust too.” He pursed his lips. “I will likely die today. She will be safe and you will keep her safe. Is that understood?”

“I…” Jaesa sighed. “Understood, milord.”

“Good.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “It was an honor to teach you, Jaesa. Keep yourself safe.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, “I’ll keep her safe. I can promise you that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Pierce grunted as he withdrew his rifle, “I don’t plan to die today.”

Jaesa and Pierce moved to walk out, though Vauner lingered. They didn’t question, and both departed, putting on their helmets as they did so. Once they were gone, Vauner pulled out a holo-communicator and tapped in a frequency, and a few seconds later the image of a twi’lek woman appeared.

_“Alarms are going off, it’s happening now, isn’t it?”_

“It is,” Vauner answered, closing his eyes, “It’s not good. Jaesa’s on her way now. The ship is prepared, yes?”

 _“Yes, it is,”_ she said, voice turning worried, _“but we’re not leaving separated. Not after everything we’ve gone through.”_

“Plans change, Vette,” the Sith said with a sad smile, “I don’t intend to die… but I’m not going to put you in danger needlessly. Valkorian… we think he’s coming here. Now. There isn’t time to argue. Jaesa’s on her way, like I said.”

_“But—”_

“No!” he interrupted, scowling, “When she gets there, you _leave_. We planned this. If I live, we meet up. If not… there needs to be someone to find the survivors.”

 _“I can’t do that!”_ she exclaimed, _“I’m not… I’m not you! I can’t do that kind of thing without you.”_

“You’re _not_ alone,” he emphasized, “You have Jaesa. You have Broonmark. We have contacts. I don’t expect you to do it alone, and I know you can lead. Be smart, and I know you can do it. Keep Jaesa close, keep your weapon closer, and you’ll do fine.”

_“I…”_

“You _can_ ,” he repeated, “I know it.”

She nodded once. _“Okay… okay, I will.”_

Vauner sighed in relief, and in the distance an alarm audibly sounded. “It’s starting. I love you.”

 _“And I you,”_ She took a shaky breath. _“Show this Emperor that he messed with the wrong Sith.”_

Vauner gave an affirming nod and ended the holocall before rushing out of the room, helmet on and lightsaber in hand as the vision faded… the regular Korriban sun beating down upon the desolate ruins.

Vauner now seemed appropriately subdued as he walked up beside Daniel. “Pierce and Jaesa, Wrath Guard Commander and my Apprentice, respectively. Vette, my wife as you probably guessed. That was the last time I saw Jaesa and her.”

“Did they get out?” Daniel asked.

“That day, yes.”

“They survived then?”

“For a while. Different story, Jedi. Focus on this one.”

Daniel looked out over the sands of the ruined temple where a battle for the fate of the Sith had once taken place. “The defense didn’t go well?”

“No,” Vauner said with an air of melancholy, “No, it did not.”

* * *

The vision continued, and the armies of the Sith Empire stood ready for whatever happened next. The temple had been fortified with turrets, droids, soldiers, and anti-air weapons stationed throughout the temple grounds. Thousands were ready for the battle, and when the AA weapons began firing into the sky, the snipers and soldiers turned their weapons upwards and also fired.

Several Sith ignited their lightsabers in preparation, while Daniel and the spirit of Vauner observed from the sidelines. A ship of alien design with a golden insignia on the wings soared overhead at a blazing speed as a figure fell out of it, and in a few seconds, landed on the ground before the gathered army with a blast of sand from the impact point. The blaster fire stopped temporarily as the Sith surveyed their target.

Daniel had wondered what the enigmatic leader of the Eternal Empire had looked like, and the answer was… not as exotic as one would expect. The Eternal Emperor was a male human, clad in white and gold armor, with moderate amounts of trim and ornaments befitting one of his status, though not overly gaudy. He wore no helmet, and a cape of white and gold fell from his shoulders.

Barring his size, which was over a head taller than Vauner, little appeared unique. His eyes were a vibrant amber, his neatly styled hair was gray and white, and he sported an immaculate beard. No lightsaber or weapon hung from his belt, nor anywhere else on his body that Daniel could see. Yet despite his arguably mundane appearance, even through the vision, Daniel could sense the power that radiated from the man.

Valkorian looked at the defenses assembled before him, eyes twinkling in near-amusement. “This is all your Empire could assemble to defend itself?”

Daniel winced the moment Valkorian spoke, a drawl voice layered with condescension and contempt, with a few odd enunciations like he tried to draw out some of his words.

Yet the words pierced his mind – something he felt shouldn’t be possible through a vision – as if he was there himself, not a passive observer. They were clear, commanding, and more reminiscent of a mind trick or telepathy than simple speech. Many of the soldiers, and even some Sith shook their heads in discomfort, some knocking their earpieces.

The command came quickly in response from the twi’lek Sith who directed her crimson blade at the lone figure. “Open fire!”

Red bolts shot toward Valkorian who simply clasped his hands before his body and stood silently as the lasers either dissipated, were mysteriously deflected off to the side, or, for a rare few, were frozen in place before they burned themselves out. Grenades and explosives followed, all of which were telekinetically moved aside, and even the AA weapons were turned upon him, though these he froze in place before hurling them back at the emplacements, destroying them.

The bombardment continued for five straight minutes, with nothing managing to hit him. Valkorian didn’t bother reflecting anymore of the fire back, seemingly content to passively observe the army trying to kill him and deflect all attacks like mildly irritating insects.

Daniel had never seen anything like it.

Such… control, without even lifting a finger… in _theory_ it was possible, but he did not believe even Palavola could harness such command over the Force.

Valkorian finally shook his head, and waved a hand in disgust, brow furrowing and a sigh escaping his lips. “I did not come here to contend with children. **Die.** ”

The sheer power in the command was powerful enough that Daniel _almost_ initiated anti-telepathy countermeasures, and he could only imagine how powerful the command was in-person. Many of the Sith were able to defend their minds, but the soldiers were not so fortunate, with many immediately shooting themselves in the head, throwing themselves on ignited lightsabers, detonating grenades, or simply dropping dead. Several Sith succumbed as well, and only the Wrath Guard soldiers were able to prevent being affected by the command.

Valkorian began walking forward.

The Sith acted.

The few lightsabers which were not ignited lit and hummed, as dozens of armored Sith charged the Eternal Emperor with a mixture of red, violet, and orange blades, while lightning crackled as robed Sith summoned storms of power – purple and blue electricity running through their arms, hands, and bodies. Several Sith leapt into the air toward Valkorian, and with a flick of his wrist one suddenly twisted in the air, dismembering and beheading several Sith close to him before he was slammed to the ground on top of his own lightsaber.

Lightning flowed around him like water around stone – seeming to hit, but immediately dissipating afterwards. Armored Sith stuck at him with lightsabers but Valkorian deflected them with inhuman speed, batting away lightsabers with his hands as if swatting flies and with the opposite hand throwing them back with enough force to cave in their armor upon impact into walls or defenses.

One Sith swiped and missed. Valkorian, fast as a vornskr, grabbed the Sith by the neck, lifting her into the air, looking dispassionately at the young woman as her skin began to wither and gray as the life was drained from her body in seconds before tossing the desiccated body away and gesturing downward, shutting off all the nearby lightsabers before following up with a Force crush attack that turned all the Sith around him into mixtures of bloody skin and metal.

The Sith blasting lightning at him, or using telekinesis to throw boulders and wreckage, were having no further success, and the war droids in the back of the line were crumpled into sparking wrecks once Valkorian clenched his fist.

To Daniel, it looked like he was even more disgusted by the droids than he was at actually being shot at.

The orange sand was tarnishing his previously pristine ensemble, but Valkorian didn’t seem perturbed as his cape flapped in the wind with purple and blue lightning crackling around him. A female Sith blasting lightning out of her hands screamed as he approached, one of rage and desperation at her ineffectiveness, causing the lightning to flash brighter.

Valkorian smiled and flicked a wrist.

A second later the lightning reflected onto the Sith’s body, cocooning it in a bright purple flash as she immolated herself -- a blackened corpse fell to the ground, smoking and charred. Daniel saw every other Sith that had been doing the same thing suffer the same fate, and he couldn’t fathom what Valkorian had done.

This wasn’t how the Force _worked_.

The few Sith that were still alive no longer expected victory. They ran away in terror as Valkorian advanced deeper into the temple grounds. Now, he was no longer passive. Fleeing Sith were pulled toward him and executed effortlessly -- their corpses tossed aside or at other defenders.

Some of the Wrath Guard fared better, but on their own, they were incapable of standing against the Eternal Emperor directly. Vauner watched silently with him as they followed Valkorian’s path of destruction and death until they reached the main temple, where the past Vauner and the majority of the Wrath Guard waited.

Vauner wore the gray helmet that Daniel recognized from an old Sith artifact, a marauder helmet worn by Sith who had been part of Darth Malgus’s team during the Sacking of Coruscant.

Valkorian stopped, and glanced around and up at the temple, almost absentmindedly before redirecting his flashing eyes to the Emperor’s Wrath. “How much you sacrifice, and for what? To weaken me ever so slightly? To delay your own death?”

“No one is invincible, Valkorian,” Vauner said, igniting his amethyst blade, “You do not know who you are tampering with, or what you and your children have awoken.”

“You speak of your Master, Vitiate?” Valkorian smiled ever so slightly. “I know quite well what I am doing, Wrath. And your own power will not save you. A pity, for you showed such promise.”

“We shall see,” Vauner said as the rest of the Wrath Guard ignited their lightsabers or raised their weapons.

The Wrath took a battle stance, and he and the rest of the Guard became… different. An inherently dark power coalesced around them; an aura emanating from them and dampening the light around them, as wisps of blackness and red tinges flowed off and on their bodies.

Valkorian lifted a hand and the lightsaber flew from Vauner’s hand – and froze mid-air between the two men for several seconds, with it vibrating and moving back-and-forth between them with enough intensity Daniel was concerned it would break. Valkorian cocked his head, as Vauner grit his teeth, and just as quickly as it began, the tug-of-war between the two ended. 

The lightsaber flew back to Vauner’s hand, and Valkorian lowered his own, before directing the other toward several of the Guard, which erupted in purple-white lightning, far more powerful than anything the Sith had done, and it overwhelmed their own armor and defenses instantly, cooking them on the spot and adding several more corpses to the battlefield.

Reraising his other hand toward Vauner, he unleashed a similar bolt of lightning that the Wrath was able to catch on his blade, though only barely holding it back. Pierce and the other armed Guard fired a large number of explosive slugs which attracted Valkorian’s immediate attention, and several more of the Guard charged forward, lightsabers flashing. The Emperor was forced to deal with their attacks, temporarily allowing Vauner free reign, but this distraction came with a price.

Even augmented, the Wrath Guard were no match -- cooked with lightning, killed with their own lightsabers, or crushed into paste. The black and red shadow of Vauner slashed forward with the amethyst blade when Valkorian was fending off two more attacks -- relieving the Emperor of his left arm.

Valkorian took several steps back, though to Daniel’s amazement did not seem deterred, and with a wave sent all the Sith close to him flying back. Narrowing his eyes, he lifted Pierce into the air and blasted him with lightning powerful enough to cause his body to immediately combust, and tossed the flaming corpse to the side as the dismembered limp floated up to the stump and Daniel recognized the telltale sign of healing taking place as the arm was reattached.

He looked back, wondering why the Sith weren’t attacking, and realized they couldn’t. Each of them was frozen in mid-action while Valkorian healed.

“To draw blood against me is quite impressive, Sith,” Valkorian said with a grudging respect, as he flexed the fingers of his reattached limb, “but you have no chance of victory. Not against my Empire. Not against my children. Certainly not against me. I have tolerated your attempts long enough. Become one with the Force, as all are destined to.”

He waved a hand and the vision abruptly ended.

Daniel looked over to see Vauner take a breath, as if the spirit was physically affected.

“He severed our spirits from our bodies,” he explained, “The echo still lingers. His power still persists through the Force, beyond time and space. I have never been able to see what happened in those few moments outside of my own memories.”

Daniel shook his head, at a loss for words. “What kind of being was he?”

“A being of the Force itself?” Vauner shrugged. “That is the only answer I could determine. Only an entity of that nature could shape it so readily. So… _easily_.” He motioned forward. “There is one more part, Jedi. Follow me.”

* * *

Now the vision materialized in a massive abandoned chamber. Twelve seats were arrayed along the walls, high above the ground for those who sat in them to watch whoever marched the path to the end, an end which had a seat of its own, with stairs leading up toward it. Banners fell from behind each of the seats, each displaying some kind of symbol, but only the one behind the largest seat – or throne – showed the Sith Empire’s insignia.

The room was utterly silent, aside from the loud clack of boots as Valkorian walked inside, then he paused, taking a moment to look around the abandoned building. Sitting in the throne was Marr, although as Daniel took a closer look, he saw that it did not appear to have been voluntary. Marr appeared pinned to the chair, cracks and chips on the seat where he strained to be free.

From the floor, Valkorian looked upon the throne where the Sith Emperor was supposed to sit.

Marr let several seconds pass before speaking. “What did you do to me?”

“I prevented you from needlessly throwing your life away,” Valkorian said, waving a hand and Daniel saw Marr’s body relax, as he was permitted to move, “A man of your particular skills should not be wasted through pointless patriotism and ego. You _knew_ you could not win, yet you see no other choice.”

Marr had shakily stood as Valkorian spoke, and drew his lightsaber.

“There is no choice, Valkorian,” he spat, descending the stairs, his crimson blade humming by his side, “You should have let me fight. I will not die a coward.”

Valkorian lifted a hand and the lightsaber flew to hover over his palm, disassembling itself while the Eternal Emperor spoke, “Courage is admirable; recklessness is not. There are none left alive who can attest to your actions.”

“Except me,” Marr growled, “I am not one of your servants, Valkorian, I am Sith. Sith do not _kneel_. They do not _submit_. Not to the Jedi, not to the Republic, and certainly not to _you_.”

Valkorian let the disassembled lightsaber fall to the ground in pieces which clattered loudly in the silence. The red crystal disappeared into his palm as he answered, “And that is why you have _failed_ , Darth Marr. That is why your Empire has collapsed. Your kind must _evolve_ to succeed. You must understand the _reality_ of what you face. The _Jedi_ , the _Sith_ , your conflicting ideologies mean nothing now. Evolve and accept the _gift_ I can offer you. I do not believe in _wasting_ potential – potential you possess, with the proper guidance.”

“I am not naïve enough to assume this,” Marr spat, “Do not lie.”

“You possess an unusually high opinion of yourself and your capabilities,” Valkorian said dryly, opening his palm and allowing red dust to fall out, the crystal presumably gone, “Do you believe I _fear_ you? That you could pose a _threat_ to me.”

He closed a fist once more, and Marr’s arms slammed to his sides and legs slammed together, pinning him in place. 

“No,” Valkorian continued softly, pacing around the Sith, “You do not and never could. But I do not manage my Empire myself, there are those I place under me who rule and command. Your own Empire is shattered and broken, it requires leadership. Leadership I can _give_ to you, an Empire which can be greater than any in your history. This can be provided to you, if you only kneel.”

He released his grip on Marr who rolled his neck and shook his limbs, voice still firm.

“If you are so powerful and knowledgeable, Valkorian, then you should know what I will say,” Marr stated with a rasp, “Kill me if you desire, because I will never kneel to you.”

“A waste.” Valkorian shook his head and before Marr could move to attack, he was lifted into the air and the life began to be choked out of him. “Yet perhaps there is another opportunity here.”

He turned around completely, his back to the choking Marr and looked directly at Daniel who found himself suddenly frozen in place, unable to move or speak. This was not an idle passing of eyes over a place he happened to be standing, as many participants in the vision had done before, Valkorian was looking _directly_ at him, and cocked his head ever so slightly.

“I have acquired many insights into the Force,” he mused, “Insights that allow me vision others lack. Anomalies I can sense and determine in a way… I wonder…” he trailed off contemplatively as Marr choked in the background, before expiring, while Valkorian just looked at where Daniel was standing, something which should be impossible, yet he was doing it all the same.

After Marr’s body hit the ground, Valkorian appeared to come to some kind of conclusion, and looked away, and Daniel found he could move again. Valkorian departed a few moments later, and just as quickly as it materialized, the vision dissipated, and the final chapter of this short piece of history concluded.

Daniel quickly looked around for Vauner, needing an explanation and the spirit marched over at the same time, a clear demand in his expression. Both Jedi and Sith spoke at the same time, under the setting Korriban sun.

**“What was that?”**

* * *

The sun had almost completely set, and by the time that had come, neither of them had any sufficient explanation for the phenomenon they had experienced.

“I’d wondered about what he’s said for centuries.” Vauner shook his head in disbelief. “I chalked it up to an idle comment, a slight brag at most, but now… it seems much clearer. None of your Jedi texts mention anything like that?”

“None that I can remember,” Daniel affirmed, pondering as he sat on one of the pieces of rubble that made up the ruins, a cold wind blowing small gusts of sand around, “What happened… it should not be possible.”

“You want to speak about what is possible?” Vauner asked sarcastically, “After what you saw?”

“What I saw…” Daniel trailed off, still processing exactly _what_ he had seen, “I’m reevaluating several things.”

“No doubt,” Vauner said, this time without sarcasm, “You understand now why I say that Jedi, Sith, anyone else… we’re irrelevant when such entities become involved.”

“Perhaps, but they’re gone now,” Daniel said, “Or at least they appear to be. If I remember, even Valkorian was killed. It explains why we’re not ruled by him now.”

Vauner raised one fleshy tendril eyebrow, eyes shining in the growing darkness. “Gone, Jedi? Do you really believe that?”

“If they aren’t.” Daniel gestured around. “Then where are they?”

“Admittedly, a good question,” Vauner said with a short nod, “but I know that they aren’t gone. Valkorian is probably no more dead than I am, though I cannot say for certain how he died. But there are others who walk this galaxy. The names and faces change, but they have come to Korriban before, and I know better than to involve myself when they appear.”

An uneasy feeling was growing in Daniel, as pieces were beginning to come together in a very unexpected way. The phantom threat to the Jedi – one which he still felt _wasn’t_ necessarily connected to the Sith, perhaps he had stumbled upon it. These… beings of the Force. Few they must be, but the old Sith Empire had fallen before one with relative ease.

There must be legends and stories of such beings beyond the vision he had experienced. Normally, Dal would be the one to go to, but recent visions had thrown his reliability into question even more than it had been. However, there was one place where such individuals could walk and they would not know – the Unknown Regions. Pon might know something. Lowbacca too when he returned to the Core worlds.

Arnica Solo was also someone who might know about this – but since she was currently residing in the Imperium, and doubtless continually watched by Imperial Intelligence, speaking to her of something this sensitive was… risky.

It was worth asking later, but the more pressing concern remained.

“If they are still among us, then they could be a threat,” Daniel said slowly, “A far greater one than the Sith.”

“Likely, Jedi, but I’d warn you against this particular path,” Vauner cautioned, shaking his head, “You have no one like Vitiate to protect you. Vathila is just as helpless, much as she would like to believe otherwise. You cannot _win_ against these entities.”

“And the alternative is what?” Daniel inquired, lacing his fingers together, “Let it happen?”

“I can’t answer that, Jedi.” Vauner shrugged. “Possibly. Perhaps it’s time for it to end. For the Jedi to end. For the Sith. Throwing your life away for that accomplishes nothing.”

“Be that as it may, I’m not going to do that,” Daniel said, standing up, “Valkorian was killed somehow, as was Vitiate. There may be others. I need to find out how this happened.”

Vauner closed his eyes and released a sigh, something Daniel idly noticed the spirit did a lot, despite not needing to do things such as breathe. It was a common phenomenon with spirits, usually accepted as something spirits did instinctively.

“If you’re set on this path, Jedi, I can tell you a place to start looking.”

“Where?”

“Darth Nox and Valkorian had a long history.” His face filled with distaste. “If anyone could tell you more, it would be her.”

“And she is dead, yes?”

“Death isn’t an obstacle, Jedi. I’m dead, after all.”

“Fair point,” Daniel acknowledged, “Again, where?”

“I don’t know where she is buried or what she is connected to,” Vauner admitted, “but I can tell you that you would find those answers on Dromund Kaas.”

The name was familiar, and it was often in old texts of the Sith Empire, as well as the vision he had experienced, but aside from the historical context, he didn’t know where it actually _was_ , as no star charts seemed to have it.

“I don’t suppose you have coordinates?”

“I do, Jedi.” Vauner gave a thin smile. “I suppose you will have to decide if you trust me to not send you into a star.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ll take a chance, if for no other reason then you’re just as interested in what I’ll find. Difficult to do that if I’m dead, isn’t it?”

He didn’t feel the need to add that Pon would doubtless know where the planet was. He might have questions about _why_ Daniel was interested in the old Sith capital – but that would be a conversation for another day. What was important was that he would double-check whatever the Sith provided.

Vauner was still a Sith. It was right to be a little skeptical.

Trust, but verify.

“Indeed, Jedi.” Vauner then recited the coordinates which Daniel both memorized and wrote down – the planet no more than a few light-years away. “I cannot say what you will find. The world could be uninhabited, or there could be a new civilization. But if you are looking for Nox, that is where you start.”

“Thank you,” Daniel paused, then looked to Vauner, “You’ve been here for… a long time. I’m curious, if it isn’t too personal… if you wish to continue enduring indefinitely?”

Vauner was silent for a few moments. “A complicated answer, Jedi. If you had asked me this even a few centuries ago, my answer would have been that I wish to fade away. I have no purpose on this planet, and would prefer to go to…” He waved a hand. “Whatever is beyond _this_ , if there is anything at all. Perhaps I’ll see my wife again. Unlikely, but I can hope.”

He looked directly at Daniel. “However, things have changed. I have my own plans now, Jedi. Some very personal plans. Perhaps I’ll tell you them sometime, but while I appreciate the offer you likely wished to propose, I will decline.”

Daniel decided that he would learn of the Sith’s enigmatic plans later, as he doubted Vauner was going to be leaving Korriban anytime soon. “If you wish. Thank you, Vauner. May the Force be with you.”

He snorted. “Seeing as how I’m dead, Jedi, I’d say it already is.”

Daniel smiled and began walking away.

“Jedi, one more thing.”

Daniel turned around.

“If you happen to speak to Nox,” Vauner said, with a sinister gleam in his eye and a toothless smile, “Tell her that I am coming for Lestko Beni’vel.” He gave a short wave as he began fading away. “Do not worry about the details, Jedi. I assure you, she will know exactly what that means.”


	4. Dromund Kaas - Vision of Fervor

** SotP Tales - Prelude to Twilight **

* * *

PART IV

_ Dromund Kaas - Vision of Fervor _

* * *

The perpetually overcast skies of Dromund Kaas would be, for a little while, dry.

A temporary reprieve, as the storms were growing once more, threatening to catch all those outside in a freezing torrent of water, lightning, and wind. Of course, the danger was not necessarily the storms themselves, but the beasts that went hunting after. The damp jungles of the planet were ripe with creatures dangerous enough to easily kill wookiees, trandoshans, war droids, and even trained Sith.

Almost none ventured beyond the cities aside from hunters, explorers, and soldiers.

The Kaas Sith too, though only when necessary.

Forecasts showed the likelihood of a heavy storm within hours. With such a short window, any need to depart was withheld until the storm passed, a tempest that arose this fast would be short and violent. Yet there were the deviant and the brave who were willing to take the risk, and two such individuals had exited the city, one more reluctant than the other. Not through the gates, but by simply leaping over the walls.

A trivial task for those trained in the Force.

“Milady,” a purple-skinned togruta grunted as their boots squished into damp muck, “I must protest this idea again. An expedition _now_ is not advised, not without—”

“Shush,” Carolin, Lady of the Shan Family and soon-to-be Princess of Kaas City interrupted, lifting a pale thin finger to her lips; glittering emerald eyes sparkling with amusement, “You told me this already. I don’t want to hear it again.”

Sashal Zavros, Knight of the Zavros Family and Guardian to the Lady Shan, sighed, wishing she had a stronger will to rein in the independent noble. Yet she’d spent enough time with the young woman to know that arguing with her was a waste of breath, and Carolin was more than willing to abandon her if she absolutely wouldn’t play along. If given the choice between keeping her in her sights, or risking her safety by refusing to play along, this was unfortunately the superior option. At the same time… there was something satisfying in guarding a member of the Noble Families who didn’t spend all of their time in palaces or engaged in court politics.

That Carolin was capable of defending herself also put some of her concerns at ease.

 _Still,_ she thought dryly with a mental sigh, _I’m a terrible bodyguard._

“You could have at least changed into something more appropriate,” she chided the young woman as they began walking the paths, or what passed for such now – having turned to muddy sludge from the rain.

Carolin briefly glanced at her uniform and chuckled. White silks, with beautiful embroidered blue highlights and symbols; symbolic lore of the Shan Family that would soon have the red of the Beni’vel Family added to it. Such uniforms were valuable beyond compare on the planet, and wholly unique to the person who wore it.

Sashal never could decide if Carolin loved or hated the uniform because she wore it _everywhere_ , and for almost every occasion. It had been torn, ripped, stained, and soiled. But admittedly, each time it had suffered damage, she’d personally stitched it up herself. Not typically a skill those of the Families developed, let alone a Shan. Still, it would be so much simpler if Carolin had just dressed for the occasion.

Of course… the young Shan _did_ quite like being the center of attention. Though for her, it was something of a task to _not_ draw attention to herself. There was an inherent presence about her, one only possessed by the most powerful of the Families. She was accepted as one of the most powerful Shans in generations. Rumors long persisted that the spirits of Bastila, Satele, and Warren had granted her their blessing, but Sashal had never asked what the young Shan experienced.

That was not her place.

Beyond her power, what drew the eye of many onlookers was her long and luscious hair, the color of flame, only matched by the blade of the equally bright lightsaber that hung on her hip. No one knew how such a trait had manifested, as _none_ of the Shan Family – nor any others, truth be told – possessed even remotely similar hair colors, but all could agree that she definitely stood out as a result.

The two women marched onward, soon, far off the trails into the true dark forests of Dromund Kaas. Carolin led the way, breaking into runs and leaps augmented by the Force to move through the dense forest like the water that rained upon it. Sashal could keep up, of course, but she was a more… straightforward warrior. She lacked a flow that seemed to come to her ward naturally.

Then Carolin suddenly paused in a small clearing, the storm clouds growing overhead.

The togruta decided now was the best to ask the all-important question, “Now. Tell me why we’re out here.”

Carolin looked at her, with a look of fake hurt on her face. “You don’t trust me?”

Sashal narrowed her eyes. “You woke me up and said to ‘come with you now,’ and that you were ‘going out of the city.’ If I’m going to keep your reckless self out of danger, I at least need to know what possessed you to come out here _right before a storm_.”

“Okay.”

To Sashal’s surprise, the young woman grew deadly serious.

“I felt something when I was meditating. Foreign. Powerful. It appeared briefly and vanished.”

Sashal frowned, several possibilities forming in her mind, few of them good. “An object or user of the Force?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure.” Carolin scowled. “I was outside on the tower when I felt it. I think I saw a streak flash across the sky, but it might have been lightning. I don’t know, but I need to find out if there was anything.”

“Carolin…” Sashal shook her head. “We have protocols for this. We didn’t need—”

“I know! And I _can’t_ demand a full search party right now!” Carolin interrupted with a lifted hand, “ _If_ I’m wrong, I’ll look like an idiot, and the marriage is already precarious enough. I _know_ there are at least six other women – and their parents – who are just waiting for the chance to screw this up for me.”

“They’ll fail, it’s already decided,” Sashal reminded her, inwardly sighing at the all-too-familiar troubles the young Shan was going through, “You should stop worrying about that.”

“In _theory_ ,” Carolin pointed out, “I’m not even the preferred one in my own Family, remember?”

Unfortunately, the girl had a point. Powerful she may be, but she was also something of an independent pariah at times. Stints like these being among her vices, and her _liberal_ understanding of court protocol certainly rubbed many the wrong way. Still, she had attracted the Prince’s attention, and while Sashal had only met the man a couple times, it was enough to convince her that his will was just as strong, if not stronger than the young woman before her.

Their similarities were perhaps the reason there was strong, yet hidden resistance to the union.

Nonetheless, the Prince’s approval alone ensured she had nothing to worry about, but politics also dominated life in Kaas City. Natural of the girl to stress about that. She could be humored for a while. “Well, let’s see what’s out here.” Sashal motioned around. “You might not mind the rain, but I’d prefer to be dry and back as soon as possible.”

Carolin gave a bright smile, emboldened by her guardian’s lack of argument. “Let’s get going then.”

They traversed the jungles for minutes more, even as the wind began picking up and droplets fell on her face. Lovely. Even if they turned around now, they would definitely _not_ get back before the rain came. _She’d better wrap it up or I will drag her back, like it or not. We’re not getting caught up in the aftermath._

“Woah!” Carolin suddenly gasped.

Twin sabers instinctively appeared in Sashal’s hands when she saw it too.

It was a starship, but definitely not one she had ever seen before. Starships were a rarity on the planet to begin with, as only the odd Sith occasionally came, and even then, only the Families used self-produced ones. They were definitely not _this_ odd model, which had an elongated nose, four small engines, and what seemed to be wings that split, tipped with blasters.

“A starfighter?” she wondered aloud.

“Has to be,” Carolin said, pointing to the cockpit, “No way more than one can fit in that thing.”

A warble interrupted both of them and they turned to see a droid… was that an _astromech_? It looked like the droids in Kaas City, but as if it was a newer model. A domed head and greater sleekness stood out to her, painted blue and silver. It almost bounced as it saw them, shrieking in an almost comical manner. Carolin and Sashal exchanged a look.

“Have you ever seen one like that?” Carolin asked under her breath.

“Never,” Sashal confirmed, “We should find its owner.”

“Who can’t be far,” Carolin cleared her throat before addressing the droid, “Take us to your master!”

Sashal smothered a smile at the command. Droids always obeyed orders without question in Kaas City, but she suspected that the young woman giving a command to a foreign droid was going to be about as effective as—

She ceased that line of thought when the droid turned around and began rolling away, beeping expectantly for them to follow. Even Carolin seemed surprised it had worked, and they hastened to follow the droid, lightsabers at the ready.

“I can’t believe it worked,” she muttered to herself, “At least it understands Basic.”

Only a few seconds later they froze when they beheld the assumed owner of the droid. It was a… man, Sashal assumed, a man in black clothing, complete with a hood, who was sitting cross-legged on a mossy rock. Now that they were closer, she felt it. This man was certainly a Force-user, but one whose power she could only guess at, which bothered her immediately. Usually, one could sense the power of another, or at least hedge an approximate guess.

But this man… it was impossible to tell. She gently probed his mind and found a staunch wall. With an unknown disparity of power, it wasn’t safe to aggressively push… yet.

She had an idea of who it could be, but wasn’t sure. They had always announced their arrival before coming to the planet.

“Careful…” she quietly cautioned Carolin, but the woman was not one for subtlety in these instances, and took a stance a few meters away from the man before speaking in a firm and authoritative command; one could almost forget it came from a woman who was only weeks away from her sixteenth birthday.

“You are on Dromund Kaas, stranger, sovereign land of the Noble Families of Dromund, and ruled by his royal majesty, the Prince of Kaas City. Identify yourself, and explain by what right you intrude?”

A brief silence, and the man stirred.

“Apologies, young one,” the man’s voice was calm; calmer and older than Sashal had expected. Yet there was a lint of power to it all the same. “I was not expecting company so soon.”

Carolin narrowed her eyes. “Answer my question, upon pain of capture, imprisonment, and judgment at the hands of the Peacekeepers.”

The man chuckled, standing with assistance from a cane that had been in his lap, his back still to them. “Your enthusiasm does you credit, young one. Tell me of whom I speak to, and I will answer your question.”

The nostrils flared on the face of the young noble. “I am Carolin, first of my name, and Paladin of the Family of Shan.” She drew her lightsaber, a blade as deep as the sun ignited and leveled itself as the man who turned fully to face them and the blood of Sashal froze.

There was only darkness under the hood. Utter and complete darkness. It was like staring into the void itself and immediately Sashal knew who this was – or at least _what_ he was. The power of the man became more apparent, now easily dwarfing her own.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said with an inclination of his hood toward Carolin, “but I believe your companion knows who I am.”

“A-Apologies, milord,” Sashal kept her voice steady, giving a short bow, “We were not expecting a visit from the Collective.”

Carolin blinked, turning deathly white, and hastily deactivated her lightsaber and returned it to her belt with a slightly trembling hand before offering her own bow.

“No matter,” the man waved a hand absentmindedly, “I dislike announcing my presence. The pomp and circumstance is tiring to me. I prefer having an unobstructed view of a people; a planet. I intended such when I landed in isolation, yet here you are.” His tone took on a musing cadence. “It appears the Force has charted my path.”

“Is there anything you would have of us, milord?” Carolin asked, her defiance now gone as she realized she was dealing with a Sith. She had only dealt directly with the Collective in a few formal and sheltered affairs.

Foreign Sith made Sashal uneasy. They were a different breed from the Kaas Sith, despite the sharing of names, and this uneasiness was something she knew Carolin felt as well. Yet they were the first – and among the strongest – allies the Families had. They had even recognized the Kaas Sith as a dedicated Order of the Collective, even if such was…

Well, inaccurate. It wasn’t like how the Orders were usually structured.

From what little she knew, anyway.

“May we also have the honor of knowing who has come and for what purpose?” Sashal asked as well, “We shall endeavor to ensure you are satisfied.”

“My name is not important, Knight Zavros,” he answered, internally startling her, as she hadn’t mentioned her name, “I am merely a voice of my Master.”

Immediately her mind went to who that could be? She only knew a few names of the Sith as well as Orders. Oridian? Ragnos? One of the Brotherhood? The voss whose name she couldn’t remember? Nox help them, _Timoris_? From his simple robes and face of the void, he could literally speak for anyone.

Carolin asked the question. “Which Master?”

There was a pause as he looked right at her, a glimpse into the void she felt drawn toward before the odd desire suddenly faded.

“Lady Timoris,” he answered simply, bowing his head, “She requested I… visit. _Observe_.”

Sashal swallowed.

Lord Timoris had only visited Dromund Kaas once, many years ago, and even today it was only spoken about in hushed whispers as stories and legends grew from that single encounter. It had been a terrifying ordeal for the Families, an utter embarrassment and humiliation had it not been for the fact that _all_ of them had been terrified out of their wits, with the Prince at the time being the only one to maintain some type of composure.

Though she had seen the image of a badly sweating and shaking royal barely managing to hold himself together before the Dark Lord, and after Timoris had departed, and he’d promptly gone into cardiac arrest. He lived, barely, but that encounter had scarred him and he deteriorated rapidly afterwards; it had scarred everyone unfortunate enough to have been a part of it.

Mere months later, his mind had shattered and he had taken his own life, leaving a letter behind that was incoherent; raving about impossible symmetry, shapeshifting monsters, galactic armageddon, and how they lived in an illusion. Utter nonsense, yet as a result, his son had been elevated to the throne well before his time, and while Timoris might not have been officially responsible, she was viewed with resentment… and fear.

To his credit, the young Prince had grown into a capable man under the watchful eye of his mother, the former Princess, who served as his regent until he came of age… perhaps why Timoris had sent an agent to ‘ _observe_.’

_On the bright side, at least she didn’t come herself._

Carolin looked at the man with a guarded fear. She had been nearby when the event happened – when she was many years younger – and while she’d never talked about it, whatever she had experienced followed her.

A sigh emerged from the man as if sensing their apprehension. “Do not fear, I am not here to hurt or cause trouble. Though you likely know why she sent a vessel as opposed to…” he tapped the butt of his cane on the stone before finishing, “coming herself.”

Sashal swallowed. “We do, milord. We will of course accommodate whatever you or Lord Timoris wishes. We will arrange for a visit with the Prince—”

“ **No** ,” he interrupted flatly, calmly, yet the word nonetheless echoed in her mind. His voice returned to normal a moment later. “I do not wish for formalities. I merely want to walk amongst this planet and people. If I wished a ceremony, I would have made my presence known.” His voice turned thoughtful after a few moments. “Although, I realize that I know little of your people. If you wish to provide assistance, perhaps you could show me your city and way of life. Discreetly, of course. I dislike attracting attention.”

It was a rare time Sashal saw her ward outwardly nervous, but now was one of those times. Yet the future Princess didn’t let that affect her voice overmuch, even if her face wasn’t as composed. “Of course, milord. We should leave before the storm arrives.”

“Do not worry about the storm, my lady,” the man said, taking several steps forward, assisted by his cane, “At my age, I cannot afford to let the elements bother me so.”

It was then that Sashal realized the storm had started, and yet they remained dry. The rain twisted and flew away from them, wind was blocked, and the storm itself seemingly muffled.

Amusement emanated from the man as they looked at him in awe. “Come, come,” he chided, jolting them into motion, “I suspect we have something of a trek ahead of us.”

* * *

As expected, the storm dissipated soon, with all three of them remaining dry. The howls of the beasts inhabiting the forests began sounding, and both women exchanged a grim look. The Sith Lord did not appear concerned. Most of the time they had been walking at a brisk, though ultimately slow pace, but now it was time to add some urgency.

“Milord,” Sashal risked broaching, “It would be prudent if we moved as fast as possible. The wildlife on this planet can be dangerous.”

The void looked at her and this time she resisted looking back. “Even to your people?”

“I… yes, milord.” Bravado was not the best tactic, she was assuming. “It has adapted to our presence. Many creatures have been warped by the Force over generations, and the descendants of Sith experiments give certain creatures advantages most life on other planets do not have. We treat them with caution.”

“I see.” The man visibly moved faster. “Then we should not tarry longer than needed.”

The three of them walked for a time until the massive green form of a Kaas vine cat leapt from the trees – not toward them, but the ground nearby – hissing and growling. Sashal recognized it as a full adult, twice the size of most humanoids, dark green fur with stripes of lighter green and white that allowed it to blend seamlessly into the jungle. Ignited lightsabers appeared in their hands – the orange beam of Carolin’s and Sashal’s twin blades of blue and red. She prepared to leap toward the beast to strike it down.

“ _Wait_ ,” the Sith commanded, lifting a hand, looking toward the creature.

To the amazement of both women, he began walking toward it after a few seconds. The creature spat at him initially, baring its long sharp fangs… before the beady eyes grew calm. Eventually, it started rumbling, and laid on the ground before the Sith, who rested a hand on its head. The eyes closed, and it went into a deep sleep.

“Ah, it makes sense,” the Sith said in revelation, though not directed at them, it seemed, before motioning to the women, “Follow.”

“How did you do that, milord?” Carolin asked in amazement.

“The Force connects all life, even creatures such as these,” the Sith said, pushing aside some branches, “I merely reached out and forged a connection. Creatures are receptive to such suggestions, if one puts forward the effort.”

They stepped into a small clearing at the base of a tree, and Carolin squeed, her face lighting up. “Aww, how cute!”

Sashal soon saw the reason _why_ the vine cat might have attacked. There were a half-dozen little vine kittens that were either leaping around, playing with each other, or sleeping, though they quickly dashed away when they saw the oncoming party.

Sashal looked to the Sith curiously. “Did you know it was a mother?”

“I suspected,” he said, resting both hands on the handle of his cane, “I’ve seen many creatures in this galaxy. Enough to realize there are patterns and behaviors that transcend species. She leapt in front of us, to intimidate us away. The sign of a territorial mother. It did not take me long to sense her younglings.”

Carolin was trying to get closer to one of the more curious vine cat cubs, but it was staying away from her.

“Do not chase after it,” the Sith cautioned, extending a hand in warning, “You are powerful, and it can sense that. It will assume you are dangerous. Calm yourself, close your eyes and reach out. Young creatures like these are curious. It will accept your bond, but do not force it.”

She took a breath and closed her eyes, concentrating. The Sith observed the young Shan with an… interest… that Sashal was not sure how to feel about. He was proving to be more… friendly… than she would have anticipated a student of Timoris’s being. It was a surprise, but compared to the alternative, it was vastly preferable.

“Milord,” she cleared her throat as Carolin continued luring the cub forward, “Did you happen to be an instructor? Such a technique has, quite honestly, been absent from our curriculum, and the Lady Shan is usually resistant to training of this nature.”

“A long time ago, Knight Zavros,” he answered simply, “I cannot speak to her training or methods. Perhaps she simply did not respect her instructors, or perhaps they failed to properly channel her talents. Even I can see and sense her power. If you do not mind my asking, what training has she undergone, and yourself as well?”

She thought how best to delicately answer that. “It’s complicated for those who do not join the Kaas Sith proper, milord. It depends upon the Families.” She frowned. “Were you truly told nothing about us? I cannot image the Collective does not have information on our ways.”

“Most certainly,” he said, even as Carolin had a wide grin on her face while she petted the head of the cub, which was now laying down in front of her, “However, in my experience, such documents can deceive. They omit context. Politics, biases, assumptions, they all color perception. I have learned it is simpler and more accurate to judge for myself.”

“I see, milord.” She nodded. “I apologize for the presumption.”

“It is no trouble.” He glanced upward. “Yet I would ask we continue. I believe the lesson to young Carolin is given.”

“Of course, milord.” She didn’t fail the clear notation of _lesson_ the Sith had said, and cleared her throat. “Carolin! Come, we must return.”

“Okay,” she sighed, reluctantly leaving the cub on the ground, and quickly gave a short bow to the Sith, “I… thank you for teaching me, milord. I will not forget this.”

“Good.” The Sith turned and they began walking once more toward Kaas City. “Let us talk more, there is much I wish to know.”

* * *

It took a long conversation, one which had started with some awkwardness, but Sashal decided she enjoyed talking about her home, her planet, and their lives. It was rare for anyone, let alone a Collective Sith, to take such an interest in anything they did which did not relate to the Collective, court politics, or anything like that. She suspected that he would inevitably ask more probing questions, but for now… they were ones that were simple and indicated to her that he genuinely had an interest beyond fulfilling a mission of his Master.

He asked them about their escapades, their childhoods, the parties and balls they attended. The daily lives of the commoners and farmers; the historical and symbolic meanings of the glyphs and symbols on her armor and Carolin’s uniform. Things that she could now see wouldn’t necessarily be in a dry intelligence report which covered more… _practical_ topics.

It was very easy to forget the Master this man served.

It made her wonder how such a person could maintain this… friendliness with others. Timoris was many things, but she was not good with people. Though perhaps she was too biased; one incident, even so horrific, may not be a complete reflection. It could have been a bad first impression of the Dark Councilor.

Though truthfully, she doubted it.

At least her underlings were pleasant enough.

They were in the city now, and the guards didn’t even ask why they had been outside the gates when they saw who was with them. This would hopefully not reach the wrong ears, but Sashal had a feeling that it would work out. The conversation had changed now to the city itself.

“Amazing at what your people have accomplished,” the Sith mused as they stood in the center of the city, thousands of citizens going along their way while Kaas Sith did the same, “Especially considering the devastation.”

“It took many years of rebuilding.” Sashal nodded. “But it was done. The generosity of the Collective allowed much of what you see now. Our people at the time were few and recovering. We owe a debt of gratitude to them.”

“I suppose you would hold that perception.” The Sith walked to the edge of the yawning valley, the two women close behind him. “And I can guess as to what this is.”

“The Royal Palace of the Beni’vel Family,” Carolin said, indicating the imposing palace on the other side of the valley, “It is a shame you wish to maintain a low profile, as the palace is a sight from the inside. There is so much history and power within; did you know the chambers of Emperor Vitiate and Jadus were within?”

“Carolin,” Sashal winced. She seemed to forget he was _from_ the Order of Jadus. Of course he would know that.

“Indeed,” the man mused, “You are familiar with it, I take it?”

“I…” Carolin’s face flushed. “Yes, milord. Very familiar.”

The void glanced to her, his voice turning amused. “Intimately?”

“Lady Shan is betrothed to Prince Lestko Beni’vel,” Sashal interjected, to keep the girl from being too embarrassed, “She will soon reside within the palace you see now.”

For some reason, the Sith seemed unusually quiet at that. His next words were oddly slow, “Lestko Beni’vel?”

“Yes, the very same,” Sashal confirmed, “He is doing quite well, especially for one so young.”

“Truly?” The Sith looked back to Carolin. “Apologies, my lady, I was unaware I was speaking to the future Princess.”

“Well…” Carolin shifted her feet. “I’m not the Princess yet. All I am is currently ‘betrothed.’ ”

“And you will be one in two years,” Sashal said firmly, “It is not public knowledge, milord. We would… appreciate it if word of the union was not spread yet.”

The hooded man nodded. “Of course, Knight Zavros.”

He stood in silence for a few minutes, looking out into the gulf separating the city and palace, before he spoke unprompted, “This planet is saturated with power; echoes of the past. There has been much conflict and war here…” He waved a hand. “Apologies if I appear… distracted. I hear the call of the planet. It is… disconcerting at times.”

Sashal looked at him with some concern. He certainly hadn’t appeared distracted, but she knew what he was talking about. For an outsider, it would doubtless be distracting. “Do you need to rest, milord?”

“No, no.” The hooded head shook. “I am surprised this has not been observed before. You do not feel the echoes of this place?”

“No, milord.” Sashal shook her head. “Though such aspects of the Force are beyond my skillset.”

“I do, milord,” Carolin said quietly, causing Sashal to blink in surprise. Her young ward had never mentioned this, and nearly _everything_ she shared with her. _Especially_ details of something like this.

“I am not surprised,” the man’s voice softened, “Even untrained, you see things at times, yes? Hear memories and echoes of the past? Feel the emotions of a time long ago?”

“At times, milord,” Carolin admitted, “I… try and leave quickly.”

“Why?”

“Because looking into the past too long…” She looked to a monument a short distance away. “We’ve been warned it will attract entities from the beyond. That such visions will corrupt and drive us mad. That we will be possessed by the dead who watch from beyond.”

“Curious.” The void looked into Carolin’s downcast eyes. “But you do not believe this, do you.”

It wasn’t a question. Sashal considered intervening, as while she was sure the Sith may be well-intentioned, the _last_ thing that the future Princess needed was developing an interest in the echoes. Right or wrong, there was one taboo that _no one_ on the planet crossed, especially considering the Temple of the Dark Lords.

But she couldn’t muster up the courage to interrupt the Sith.

“No…” she finally admitted, “I… did it once. I looked into an echo there.” She indicated the monument and Sashal sucked in her breath.

“Carolin…” She sighed after a moment. “You should have told me.”

“Is that significant?” the Sith asked curiously.

“Where she is talking about,” Sashal said slowly, “It was where Revan killed Emperor Jadus. Hours later, Darth Nox slew Revan.”

“But nothing happened!” Carolin exclaimed, “I thought it would! I had nightmares for weeks, and then nothing happened!”

“The past cannot hurt you, young Princess.” The Sith placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can only learn from it. I cannot speak to your customs, but such superstition should be easily dispelled.” He then stepped back. “Yet I also know such does not arise from nothing. I suspect there is a story here.”

“There is, milord,” Sashal said, “It is… the Temple of the Dark Lords. Originally, it was simply the Dark Temple of Emperor Vitiate. It is a nexus of spirits, many of whom now have… agreements with us. The Temple is our burial grounds, and the spirits of the Temple watch over and protect it. Outsiders are not welcome within.”

“Spirits generally are incapable of protection…” the man mused, “Unless…”

“They possess those who are foolish enough to go into the Temple,” Sashal confirmed, “Even Sith are not immune. Many of those from the Families were lost when they believed they could overpower the spirits; they were drawn by the echoes you describe. There is well-founded fear that similar interest could inevitably attract the worst upon Kaas City… and the planet itself.”

“Ah,” the Sith hummed to himself, “Quite curious. Such a phenomenon is new to me. You said the Temple was a burial ground, yes?”

“Indeed, milord.” Sashal nodded.

“Does that include the Families?” he asked, “Nox herself?”

“Nox is buried within the Temple, yes,” Sashal confirmed, “I would take you, but as I said… it is no place for outsiders. Even a Sith of the Collective will not be permitted. The Families themselves sometimes have issues.”

“No matter.” He shrugged. “I will only take up a little more of your time, let us walk some more. It appears that here, one question simply leads to another.”

* * *

In Kaas City, sitting alone in a moderately busy café was a man who was fairly old, or so his appearance suggested. Brown eyes, short black hair, he didn’t stand out, though the perceptive would note he seemed to be paying attention to everything around him and not the cup of tea before him. What these people would not notice was how deep in thought the man was.

It was a moment of introspection.

Daniel Skywalker doubted that anyone would have recognized him on such a remote planet, but he knew better than to take chances, and when one had access to the best disguise equipment and services in the galaxy, he would have been a fool to risk discovery. Fortunately, he blended in well.

He’d ditched the Sith robes in favor of a gray tunic, which he assumed was normal for a moderately affluent citizen. Seeing how many other men and women were wearing the same thing, it was likely. The uniformity and hierarchy of the people was very… imperial. A remnant of the old Sith Empire if he had to guess.

Nonetheless, this was a _fascinating_ experience.

He idly stirred his tea, thinking of the enlightening conversation with the girl and her guardian. He’d ensured that the conversation would be something they could discuss themselves and not forget… but would mysteriously have an aversion to discussing it with anyone else. Perhaps in the future they would overcome this block, but the suggestion was subtle enough that they might never know.

These Sith… had they not still used the term, he would have assumed they were a fringe sect like the Quabular or Mandalorian Jedi. The dark side was undoubtedly strong on this planet, yet the people were – surprisingly – not corrupted. Not from what he sensed. Even those of the Force were no more corrupted than many of the Jedi.

Light, dark, gray; such organizations and sects were becoming less defined by _what_ aspect of the Force they used, and more what they _used_ it for. These Kaas Sith… they were not the Sith he had fought on Korriban all those years ago, and from how the togruta had reacted to the name ‘Timoris’ and her fear of the ‘Collective Sith,’ it made him think they were Sith in name only.

The true Sith, they were elsewhere.

_Timoris._

Another name to add to the list. The women had been kind enough to provide information offhand about the structure of this ‘Sith Collective.’ Orders appeared to be the primary organs, and from the context, appeared to be based around certain Sith Lords. Jadus had been mentioned again, something he would need to investigate more closely at a later time. 

The peek inside the togruta’s mind had provided many trails to follow and offered many questions.

Oridian was another name that meant nothing to him. The Brotherhood? Another Sith group? The mention of a voss was unexpected and concerning, especially considering they did not tie themselves to such organizations – not without a clear purpose. Ragnos was certainly a name, and immediately his mind jumped to the ancient Sith Marka Ragnos, so perhaps there was a Sith group devoted to him…

This clearly warranted more investigation. What was important was that – from what he had seen – these people were not lost. The young Princess had been able to connect with the vine cat cub with only a little prodding. It demonstrated that whatever training children underwent, it didn’t kill their innocence and empathy.

Though the girl was certainly dealing with stress. That had been apparent; seemingly centered on her engagement to Lestko Beni’vel. He hummed to himself. Vauner had some more explaining to do. He had – correctly, it seemed – determined that Lestko was somehow related to Nox. What he did not anticipate was that it would be a teenage boy who ruled a planet of a largely isolated ‘Sith’ group.

Perhaps Nox could shed more light on why Vauner hated her enough to threaten a child; a child many generations removed.

He finished the last of his tea and stood, deciding to walk the streets on his own before making his way to this ‘Temple of the Dark Lords.’ There were echoes he wished to experience; ones that he couldn’t while under the scrutiny of his guides. Now though, there was nothing to distract him, and he could feel the roiling darkness of this planet’s violent past.

The city was so saturated with echoes that no matter where he went, all he had to do was pay attention and listen. He paused along a street, resting a hand against a nearby light pole as he closed his eyes, letting the past wash over him.

* * *

_Rain poured down over a crowd whose fury was stoked and inflamed; the smells of sweat and burning meat were overpowering, and an intoxicating aura wafted through the air; not charged with the Force, but with emotion. Anger, hate, fear, resentment; emotions which had been bottled up for years and longer, all out of fear of retaliation and death, were now set loose._

_They were free._

_Blood was demanded._

_The crowd roared. Each overlapping cheer emboldened those who marched the streets. The clank of regular kitchen knives, the hiss of industrial tools, and the ring of blunt instruments was a constant as the streets were stormed after the call to arms had been given. The undercurrent of suffering, of monotony, it lingered under the raw emotions, hate suppressed for so long and now bubbling to the surface._

_It needed a target._

_There were glimpses of victims. Flashes. A man. A woman. An alien. A Sith. A soldier. Each one isolated and allowed to be marched upon. Some had been dragged from their homes, others had been on the street and offered to the furious crowd. Many more were chained throughout the streets, begging and pleading for their lives as the festering hate and fury was taken out on them_

_“Our Empire has been infected with traitors, infested with those who have put themselves before those they have a duty to protect!” The voice that rang out held hallmarks of a modern-day Imperial accent, but with the clipped tone of one who did not speak it as a first language. More flashes from different angles showed a chiss, a man with fiery red eyes who stood above the crowd, a beacon and conduit of the fury, a man who bore armor of silver and black._

_More importantly, he wore a single red glove._

_The explanation became immediately clear._

_The Hand of Emperor Jadus._

_“The traitors live among us still!” he shouted with a fist raised to the storming skies, flashes of tortured Sith interspersed between the rallying speech, “They serve the **disloyal** Masters; those who emboldened the **infighting** and **tyranny** of the Dark Council. These individuals have been dealt with, and we enter a new era under Emperor Jadus! But those who enabled them walk among us, and it is **they** who are the greatest threat to our people. **They have held us back**. **No more**!”_

**_“No more!”_ **

_Every injustice, every slight, every setback, all of it was laid square at the feet of the traitors to this Empire. Those who had successfully enabled the suppression of the citizenry. No longer were excuses of merit, resources, or time sufficient; such were used by those who had only wished to benefit themselves at the expense of the Empire; at the expense of her citizens._

_The emotion swelled._

_For the first time in their lives, they did not have to fear reprisal. They did not have to hold in their feelings._

_For the first time, they allowed themselves to feel._

_One emotion overpowered all._

_First fear, then fear turned to anger, then anger turned into a consuming, festering hatred. A loathing for those who dared use them so nakedly; who could abuse and use them without recompense. Those who_ dared _believe they were_ better _. They were Sith, officers, those who spat upon the common people; superiors who sneered at their underlings._

_The hate consumed them._

_Their vision became red and black._

_It was all-empowering. It was all that they were._

_It was beautiful._

_It was glorious._

_“Let the traitors be punished!” the chiss roared to a crowd who responded in a deafening affirmation, **“They will burn!”**_

_Bright fire flashed, accompanied by screams of men and women, alien and human, young and old. The smell of burning flesh grew, sometimes tempered with metal and wires, sometimes the stench of cloth and fabric, but always the smell of flesh. Flashes appeared, pyres were lining the streets as traitor after traitor was strung up against a pyre, and if one was not available, they improvised._

_As the streets of the planet burned with the tortured screams of the condemned, there was only one constant mantra the crowd followed._

**_“The guilty must burn!”_ **

_So they did._

_The hatred had consumed the planet, and terror gripped those who feared they would be next._

_It was complete._

_It was glorious._

* * *

The echo ended sharply, and Daniel opened his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. His entire body was covered in sweat, his face was flushed, and he took a few good seconds to compose himself properly. Despite the cool temperature, he felt like he had a fever. The sheer _fury_ ; the _hatred_ that he had experienced… it was little wonder that the Sith of this planet did not wish their people interacting with the echoes.

There were so many…

And they were _everywhere_.

He had never quite felt something like that; something so raw and visceral. Emotion was a strong part of visions, but rarely was it so intense it completely dominated the picture. It made it difficult to learn what had actually happened, but if he could draw one thing, it was that the reign of Emperor Jadus had been a bloody one. There had been so much death, in such a short time, that it had permanently scarred the Force here.

It was not a Wound… but it seemed to have very nearly become one.

Initially, he had wondered why it had been so easy to penetrate the minds of the two women without them so much as flinching, and now he had a plausible answer. The moment he had stepped into the city, he had been forced to block out the echoes. It had been a conscious decision, as it was effectively a telepathic assault.

Thousands of people lived here _every day_.

They had managed to adapt to the point where it became white noise.

Simple defense became second nature.

It became habit.

Thus, if someone came along and subverted their ingrained defenses, even if they should know something was wrong, their brains would ignore it because that was how they had been _conditioned_. It had reached a point where only truly talented Force-users seemed attuned to it. Every Force-user should be able to feel the echoes to a degree, it was not restricted to just the powerful. Yet here, this truth did not seem to apply.

Curious.

He wondered if it had been intentional.

His breathing under control, he considered if it was worth risking another look into the dark past of the planet, but ultimately decided against it. This Temple was likely to be a challenge of its own, and he figured it would be prudent to find it as soon as possible. While he knew he could survive on the planet for a time, it was best not to linger.

He had an objective. It was time it was accomplished.

* * *

Daniel had changed back into attire more suitable for infiltration. A black tunic and his lightsaber in place of the cane prop he’d used, and the stifling face disguise was also gone, though the dyed hair would remain until he returned to Alliance Space. It was far easier to move around now, and the planet was very easy to slip into without anyone noticing, by nature of its isolation. The closer he moved to where the Temple of the Dark Lords was, the more he felt the growing darkness.

It was, without a doubt, a nexus of the dark side, though not like the ones of Ahch-To or Dagobah. It was not necessarily a place that promised visions, but where lingering spirits roamed.

There was a purplish tinge that overlaid everything, growing more powerful the closer he drew near; not distracting, but noticeable. Steps of hewn stone led to the maw of the Temple entrance, slick with water and mud. Vegetation was sparse around the Temple, though the occasional shrub and tree did grow.

What was of more interest were those who walked around the perimeter and the grounds itself. They were haphazard, dressed in robes of Sith, civilians, soldiers, and others. Some were well-maintained, others could pass for beggars and the poor. Black wisps rippled around them, a telltale sign of an improper or unwilling possession, and their eyes burned with a purple or blue light intermittently.

Another sign of an improper possession. The type of which would eventually destroy the host. Already he could see bodies puppeted that were falling apart. Some were effectively dead, only propelled by the sheer will of the entity possessing them. Flesh was rotting and bone was sometimes visible. Eyes had turned to white mush that leaked fluids down the cheeks.

The spirits possessing the bodies clearly did not care.

It didn’t necessarily surprise Daniel. Possessions in general, let alone on this scale, were so rare they were legends at best, and to his knowledge, the last primary usage was when Darth Sidious had attempted to return from beyond the grave. What he _did_ know was that dead Sith almost always performed – or attempted – possessions, and most of the time it didn’t work. Possessions this sloppy were usually performed by weaker spirits and reluctant hosts.

It fit the story the two women had told him of this place.

Cloaking himself in shadow, he easily brushed past the hapless and shambling sentries. There _was_ a risk of discovery, as when a nexus this powerful was involved, it could expose him to the spirits that lingered. But so long as he kept his power under wraps, it should not attract unwanted attention. In _theory_. This was a first-time experience after all.

As with most Sith temples, the design was simple and meant to invoke intimidation and awe instead of practicality. Daniel stepped into a massive hall held by thick pillars of the drab gray the Sith loved using. Inside, the smell of decay and death was far more prevalent, and there was a low undercurrent of conversation; impossible to fully make out without focusing on a specific conversation, but it was an old, alien tongue.

_Sithese._

At least that was the assumption. There were plaques and markers on the Temple walls written in the old language, which he could fortunately understand. It was especially helpful as it clearly directed him to where he presumed Nox was buried. There was a sudden ripple in the Force, and Daniel glanced down the wide hall and cocked his head.

There was some creature walking down, and the possessed bodies moved aside. It towered over them, it had red skin with silver armor that exposed the muscled arms, ending in thick three-fingered hands. A black cloak fell from its back, and a hood covered the head. Beady red eyes blazed, teeth were visible sticking up from a jutted-out chin.

It… was difficult to sense. The Force wavered around it.

A Wound?

He had never seen such a creature before, and had only a vague idea of what it could be, but it was certainly best to avoid it. A physical blade almost as tall as Daniel himself was held in the right hand, one with Sithese symbols inscribed on it. Curious. He was reminded of old legends of Sith who commanded creatures who had possessed a resistance to the Force and fed on their enemies.

Outside of legends… there were always the reports from the Outer Rim that spoke of creatures attacking far-flung colonies that used physical swords and left half-eaten corpses behind. The lack of credible witnesses made it impossible to confirm, though the few investigations conducted had resulted in inconclusive conclusions. Whatever had killed them was not known to the galaxy at large.

‘Dashades.’ That’s what they were called. If this _was_ a dashade, perhaps it wasn’t a surprise it was here.

Time to avoid it.

The shadow that was Daniel Skywalker moved to the Tomb of Darth Nox – along with another name that was attached to it who he did not recognize – ‘Lana Beniko.’ Odd how the name did not have a ‘Darth’ prefix as was so common among the Sith, or even simpler accolades such as ‘Lord.’ To his knowledge, he had never heard of the name Lana Beniko in documents and artifacts from the era. Perhaps he was wrong, but he did not recall her. She might not even _be_ Sith. Something to consider.

Another piece to put together.

A spiral staircase of stone – no guardrails, of course – led to a deeper part of the Temple. It was fortunately empty, and it led into a rectangular room which was plain, but clearly devoted to Nox. Cases seemingly carved into stone that held artifacts he presumed had belonged to the Dark Lord herself. A lightsaber, a tome, some notes, robes, and more.

The tomb lay just beyond, and when he stepped into it, the darkness grew stronger. In the center of the room was the tomb, one that was large enough for two people. The silver plaque before it confirmed who presumably resided within.

**_DARTH NOX, OF THE DARK COUNCIL, COUNCILOR OF THE SPHERE OF MYSTERIES, SAVIOR OF THE SITH EMPIRE, SLAYER OF ETERNAL EMPEROR VALKORIAN, OUTLANDER OF ZAKUUL, AND COMMANDER OF THE ALLIANCE AGAINST THE ETERNAL THRONE. MAY THE GALAXY REMEMBER HER SACRIFICE AND HONOR HER LEGACY OF ENDING THE TYRANNY OF THE ETERNAL EMPIRE._ **

**_LANA BENIKO, DARK LORD OF THE SITH, SITH ADVISOR TO IMPERIAL INTELLIGENCE, MASTER OF THE SITH OF THE ALLIANCE, FIRST RULER OF DROMUND KAAS AND FOUNDER OF THE KAAS SITH. MAY HER LEGACY ENDURE THROUGHOUT GENERATIONS AND HER COMMITMENT TO OUR PEOPLE BE HONORED._ **

**_MAY THEIR LOVE PERSIST ETERNAL._ **

Interesting.

The titles were certainly impressive, and while he was skeptical of giving credit to a Sith for ‘saving the galaxy,’ there was no Eternal Empire around, so she had done something right – though a Sith taking credit for ‘ending tyranny’ was rather amusing. He also doubted the so-called ‘Slayer of Emperor Valkorian’ title, or at least not as presented here. The display on Korriban made him doubtful that it had been only her – if her at all – who had performed the deed.

Her lover – considering the plaque – it seemed, Lana Beniko, also appeared to have made a more tangible impact after Nox’s ‘sacrifice,’ whatever that meant. Daniel was somewhat surprised to have never heard of her before, though few records on the era existed, and even from her plaque, she did not appear to have been a largely public individual, but very important behind the scenes.

He idly wondered if she would appear here too.

Their spirits lingered, he was sure of it. If they had been absorbed into the Netherworld, this place would be far weaker in the Force. But it was strong, and there was _something_ here. Whatever lingered, he wished to meet it. He knelt on the stone floor, rested his hands on his thighs, closed his eyes, and began meditating.

She would come soon enough.

He waited for a time, one which passed quickly, and felt it was time to open his eyes. When he did, there was a figure tinted blue before him. She wore a unique set of black robes, honestly, they held the appearance of a formal dress more than anything. The shoulders and upper arms were left bare, covered only haphazardly by a twined scarf – bits of flesh poking through the separations. The top of the dress began at the swell of her bosom and continued down – ending in a tattered hem near the ankles. Black gloves covered her hands, forearms, and part of her biceps – the right forearm encased in a horned gauntlet. A single-bladed curved lightsaber – notably _not_ the one that was in the case – hung from her waist, along with several small artifacts he didn’t recognize.

Long wavy brown hair fell past her shoulders, framing a fair-skinned face that was scowling at him, the eyes hidden behind a cloth created in a miralukan style. It was the first he’d learned the enigmatic Sith was a miraluka, though considering their similarities to humans, perhaps unsurprising it hadn’t been considered important.

“You are not supposed to be here,” she said, a note of clear warning in her sharp voice. Her arms were crossed and stance wary. “You are not of my people, nor are you Sith.”

“You’re right.” Daniel nodded, standing. “I am not of your people.”

“Then explain,” Nox demanded, “You have power. I would know why you are intruding upon my tomb.”

“I am seeking answers,” he said, “I am Daniel Skywalker. Grand Master of the Jedi Order.”

The reaction was fierce and visceral. “ _Jedi_!” she spat, jabbing a finger toward him, “You made a _grave_ mistake coming to this planet. One you will soon regret.”

“Be still, spirit,” Daniel said firmly, thankful he had prepared for the possibility of hostility, a prudent course, as this woman was unfortunately _not_ as reasonable as Vauner, “Think very carefully before you bring down the spirits of this temple upon me.”

She glared at him hatefully, though the effect was muted due to the blindfold. “State your case, Jedi, and be quick.”

“I have walked your world,” he said, “I do not wish for conflict today, but while your people may be skilled, it is unlikely they are prepared for a war. Not one against the Jedi Order. Should I be gone for too long, contingencies will go into effect and trusted allies will make the needed preparations. I have the location of this world, and should I disappear, it will be sent to not just the Jedi, but the Triumvirate who control the core of the galaxy.”

Daniel glanced up in apparent thought. “Your world will be bombarded into ashes once again, and your Families destroyed. Perhaps your Sith allies will come, but they are not prepared, else they would have struck already. Be wary about making threats, Darth Nox, because you have no leverage.”

She seethed, before her lips curled into a thin smile. “I did not expect descriptive threats, Jedi. Unexpected from one of your kind.”

He returned a humorless smile. “The Jedi have changed.”

“So it seems,” she agreed, “Very well, I will grant you a reprieve… for now. How did you find this planet?”

“It was provided to me,” Daniel said, “by a Sith associate of yours. Darth Vauner.”

The Force rippled as Nox tensed, the fury palpable. “Contemptible fool, still a thorn in my side,” she muttered, “Do not call him by that title. He is no _Sith_.”

“I’m fairly certain he would agree,” Daniel agreed with a smile, “I am… uncertain of the history between both of you. It is, frankly, unimportant to what I wish to know.”

“We will get to that, Jedi,” she interrupted with a raised hand, “He had a message for me, no doubt. He always seeks to irritate me, even beyond the grave. Tell me what he said.”

“If you insist.” Daniel nodded. “He said to tell you that he is ‘coming for Lestko Beni’vel.’ ”

Nox barely reacted. “How shocking that he would threaten the boy. Expected from one such as he. An empty threat from an outcast. Unsurprising that he would befriend a Jedi.”

“I cannot say I disapprove of that.” Daniel shrugged. “But your disagreement is between both of you.”

“Vauner is merely playing you, Jedi.” Nox snorted. “Of any person to risk trusting, it should not be him. He ensured the Empire was weakened and vulnerable. Him and _Jadus_ ,” she spat the word, “Foolish and weak fanatics.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “As opposed to the firm and transparent leadership of Emperor Vitiate?”

She sneered. “Vauner’s lies again, I see. You were not there, Jedi, nor do your kind understand. The _infighting_ he decried so much ensured that we were as strong as possible. It did not _discriminate_ , it did not _hand_ others power without earning it. There were roadblocks and hurdles in the Empire, but those made us _strong_. _I_ rose from a _slave_ into the greatest of the Dark Council.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Had I come into the Empire under those fools, I would never have achieved so much. My potential would have been forever untapped.”

Daniel simply appraised her for several seconds. “And what did this let you achieve?”

“It allowed me to survive, Jedi.” Her lips curled in contempt. “Which is more than I can say for your Order at the time. It allowed me to forge an army and overthrow a power you cannot comprehend. I was able to do these things because I was _Sith_ , uncorrupted by the platitudes and _mercy_ of the later Empire.”

“Then perhaps you can enlighten me.” Daniel nodded. “I want to know about Valkorian.”

Her face turned to stone and she was silent for a time. “Why?” she asked in a low voice.

“I saw how he conquered Korriban,” Daniel said, “Vauner warned me there were others like him who still roam the galaxy.”

“Vauner will only tell you what you want to hear.”

“Perhaps, but my interest is also academic,” Daniel redirected, “I know little of the era. And slaying an individual such as Valkorian is no doubt an incredible feat.”

“Your words do not fool me, Jedi,” Nox spat, “I can assure you Vauner is lying simply because if there _were_ entities like Valkorian, you would _know_. Their power is unmistakable. They are creatures of hunger who do not know restraint. They would have come if they endured. More to the point… even if you _were_ threatened, I would never help you, Jedi.”

“Even now, thousands of years later, your hatred endures,” Daniel sighed, “You would prefer to see the galaxy fall to a tyrant like the one you fought against than give the answer to your historic enemy.”

“Would you not do the same, Jedi?”

“That depends,” Daniel answered, clasping his hands behind his back, “You are clearly connected beyond the limitations of the beyond. You know more of the galaxy than you are revealing to me. You know the Sith have survived and endured. The war between our people will likely continue, but both of us know that entities like Valkorian… they transcend Jedi and Sith. Valkorian conquered both of our Orders, and it required an alliance of both to overcome him. This is no different. Should such a threat arise… Yes, I would share with the Sith.” He allowed a thin smile. “Then we can go back to fighting each other.”

“Noble.” She smirked. “I see some things about the Jedi do not change. The difference, Jedi, is that we are not in this situation. I know nothing of a threat of such a scale to us – and even if one existed… _I_ know the truth. I see no reason to save the Jedi as well.”

“Unfortunate.” He looked to her plaque, pacing around. “I suppose I will have to learn the truth another way.”

“There is no other way, Jedi.” Nox smiled, a mocking, yet genuine one. “All those who know are dead or gone – or those I trust. None of whom are Jedi. I regret to say you came here for nothing, Jedi. Leave my planet and pray we do not retaliate.”

“I am afraid you are wrong.” Daniel raised an eyebrow. “You should know that the Force allows the past to be witnessed. Even on this planet I have experienced this. The truth will come, it is only a matter of looking in the right place.” He rubbed his chin. “Moreover, I suspect there is something you do not want me to know about the truth.”

“Do tell, Jedi.”

“What I witnessed Valkorian do,” Daniel continued slowly, “It is nothing any ordinary user of the Force could stop. Not me. Not Vauner. Not you. No, I do not believe you killed him – but I do think you know what happened to him, and you are afraid of it.”

Nox let out a hiss of indignation. “You tread on dangerous ground, Jedi. I do not need to explain myself, certainly not to you. Return to Vauner and convey my indifference to his empty threats. We are done, Jedi. Do not return here, and should your Jedi come, they will fall as surely as the Eternal Empire did.”

The form of Nox faded away, leaving him alone in the tomb.

* * *

Much to the likely displeasure of Nox, Daniel did not leave the tomb right away. He simply returned to meditation, considering the next step to take. Nox was not going to give up anything willingly, which meant he would have to find another method of learning what he wanted. Options existed, the Voss Mystics might be helpful, but visions were unreliable in what they showed.

There _was_ however another tactic – subverting the flow of time itself. ‘Flow-walking’ was an art he had not used in a… very long time, due to the difficulty and the sheer vastness it offered, but in theory, he _should_ be able to use it to see Nox in the past, bypassing her entirely. However, it was only effective in places strong in the Force, and the further away from what you wanted to see, the harder it became.

For the best results, one needed something connecting the flow-walker to what – or who – they wanted to see. Objects of the Force were preferable – fortunately, there were a number of them which belonged to Nox here. He would not do it here, both because of the danger and because he was out of practice… but the Rift was strong in the Force, and would serve well enough.

The aing-tii would likely be happy to see him again. Knowing them, they would already be expecting him.

He ceased his meditation, standing and walking around the room of the tomb itself. He would not take anything from within the sarcophagus unless there was no choice, but fortunately, he did not have to worry about that. A holocron glowed in the far corner, with a short inscription stating it was the holocron of Darth Nox. On the opposite end was the holocron of Lana Beniko.

Daniel only needed Nox’s.

The red pyramid was warm to the touch, and he carefully placed it in a small pouch, noting an odd shift within the Force. It did not seem connected to the holocron, and had been growing since he had awakened from his meditation. Nor did it seem connected to Nox itself. Daniel kept the development in the back of his mind, and walked into the first small shrine to Nox.

He picked up the lightsaber, and ignited it to ensure the crystal functioned. The crimson blade bathed the room in red, and with a confirming nod, he shut if off and hooked it to his belt. The tomb in general had surprisingly lax security to prevent any looters. Admittedly, only the daring or stupid would try and break into a place like this, so it was presumably enough.

Daniel moved to climb the staircase, then paused as the shift in the Force seemed to tighten, and he realized it was the telltale feeling of a vision. Certainly not unexpected of a nexus this powerful, and if he was experiencing it now… perhaps it was something he needed to see. He moved to the corner of the room, paying keen attention to anything out of the ordinary.

Rapid footsteps sounded, likely only a couple of people from the number, and they came from above. The air had taken on an almost ethereal quality; a sheen that seemed to coat everything in a slightly brighter light. Not quite as immersive as previous visions, more similar to the one on Korriban.

Two figures bolted down the steps in a rush, a twi’lek whose skin was both pale and swarthy, and her companion, a human with messy, dark brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. Both appeared to be fairly young, and held unignited lightsabers in their hands. Both were also out of breath and shot concerned glances upwards where they had come from.

“I think we lost it,” the twi’lek huffed, “What _was_ that thing?”

“A dashade,” the man said, hooking his lightsaber on his belt with a firm motion, “Should’ve guessed the bastards had another one.”

The twi’lek stared at her companion incredulously. “You _knew_ this thing existed?”

“Uh…” the man paused, “No…?”

“ ‘Another one,’ ” she reminded him, crossing her arms, “What did you mean by ‘ _another one_ ’?”

“I didn’t think it was important!” he protested, “It’s not a secret! The Beni’vels have had a pet dashade for forever. It never leaves their side! How was I supposed to know they had another one here?”

She muttered something under her breath Daniel didn’t hear, and glanced up nervously. “Do you think it lost us?”

“Hard to say,” he chewed his lip, giving a slight smile as he eyed the twi’lek playfully, “Dashades hunt through the Force. So I should be perfectly safe, you on the other hand… It can probably sense your fear, so keep calm and don’t think about the big monster trying to eat you—”

“Cut it out, Taral,” the twi’lek scowled, glaring at him, “Not the time.”

The man – Taral – grew a bit more serious. “I don’t think it got our scent. If it did, we’d be fucked. Seeing as how we’re talking, I think we’re safe for the time being.” He paused. “Still, there’s something… off here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sur— Oh god! Is that a spider?!”

“AH! WHERE?!” the twi’lek shrieked, leaping behind the man and clutching the back of his robes.

“Only kidding,” the man laughed, before receiving a hard shove that sent him tumbling a few steps down, “Hey, watch it!”

“You fucking asshole!”

“Ah!” he exclaimed, sidestepping a small boulder that was thrown at him.

Looking back he saw the twi’lek seething with rage, her arms shaking at her side.

“You crazy bitch! You could’ve hit me!”

The twi’lek stretched her hands to the side as two more boulders hovered into place at her command. “Then hold still so I don’t miss.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Numa? Numa, calm down. You’re gonna attract the dashade.”

Daniel watched the scene with fascination and distant amusement. He could feel the frustration of the girl and the giddy delight of the man. After a tense moment, he heard her growl and clench her fists tightly, crumbling the stones to pebbles and dust. The man visibly relaxed and sighed in relief.

“I was never filled with so much hate as I am when I’m with you, Taral.”

The man shrugged ‘good-naturedly.’ “Part of my charm.”

The girl scowled. “I have an _overwhelming_ desire to suffocate you in your sleep.”

“Mm,” the man hummed pleasantly as he turned away and continued down the steps, “ ‘Suffocating someone in their sleep’ is a path to the dark side, little Jedi. You must fight the temptation!”

“Fuck you.”

“You must fight _that_ temptation as well.”

The girl quietly snarled and grumbled to herself, shaking with rage, though Daniel could make out none of her words. He smiled at how familiar the scene was. How he used to tease Marian and later Lara; Marian reacting with similar pique, while with Lara it was a more quiet exasperation.

“You’re so easy to rile up. What would Master Ritten say, I wonder?”

Daniel tensed slightly. Did Lara know these two? They carried lightsabers, which didn’t necessarily mean they were Jedi, but the fact that Lara was mentioned indicated they were. At the same time, the way they acted…

“She’d probably cut me some slack, given how annoying you can be.”

“That hurts, Numa.” The man looked around for a few seconds and his eyes lit up. “Ooh, I think we found it!”

“What?” She also took a closer look at the room. “Oh, wow!”

Both of them walked further into the room, looking over the various displays in the antechamber. “You know, I’m almost disappointed,” Taral commented, peering in at robes of Nox on display, “I thought it’d be a lot bigger. And filled with something other than junk. Do you remember Nadd’s tomb? That place was massive, and full of history.”

The twi’lek took a breath and sighed. “First of all, most of the relics weren’t even his. Secondly, don’t touch anything, please, we want Nox to talk to us. _Willingly_.”

“As if there’s anything in here even remotely valuable,” Taral assured his companion, “God, just look at this place. Nothing but dust and rubble. All I see here are ancient knickers. No holocron, not even a lightsaber. I guarantee anything of value is back at the palace with that ponce.”

Daniel glanced to the lightsaber on his belt. So this was almost certainly from the future… but who were these two? He didn’t recognize either of them, but they carried lightsabers, had referenced Lara and the Jedi directly – with this Numa being referred to directly as such – and if they _were_ Sith, the subterfuge was unnecessary. Nonetheless, he committed the names to memory, along with the mention of ‘Nadd’s tomb’ – which he suspected belonged to the Sith Lord Freedon Nadd of Onderon. It was a long shot, but assuming it wasn’t _too_ far into the future, perhaps he could find them – though what importance they had was yet to be seen.

“Hey, check this out,” Taral called from inside the tomb itself.

Numa followed him inside, as did Daniel who observed silently from behind. Neither of them had acknowledged his presence, which wasn’t surprising. Taral was standing by Lana’s holocron, picking it up. His brightened expression gave way to almost childish disappointment.

“Lana… Beniko?” He scowled. “Who the hell is that?”

“Don’t you know your own history?”

“I wasn’t in the Order of Nox, this shit ain’t my history. The only Order I really cared about beyond my own was the Order of Bane.”

“They were the… traitors, right?”

“Mm-hmm. Bane turned Kaan’s strength against him through cunning,” he said with a smile, one which turned to a scowl as he continued, “Those fucking goofballs tried to brute-force their way into power. Never occurred to them they were overmatched.”

“I’m sure they learned their lesson.”

“You’d have to ask them.” He shrugged. “Last I checked they were still locked away in the ‘Screaming Halls.’ ”

“I still can’t believe your Master would do that, even to a traitor. It’s obscene.”

“That’s the epithet of Sith history, my dear,” Taral said, his tone melancholy as he returned the holocron to its plinth.

The pair stood in silence, the twi’lek watching her companion with an air of concern. “Are you okay? You seem… I don’t know… distracted?”

“I suppose I am. Something about this place.” Taral scowled, looking around the room, though his eyes just passed over Daniel. “It puts me on edge and I don’t know why. It feels like… I dunno. Feels like we’re being watched.”

Daniel tensed, his thoughts returning to the vision on Korriban, but surely this man couldn’t _sense him_. The man’s presence in the vision here was negligible, certainly not the titanic aura he felt from Valkorian.

“There are spirits all over the place. You _are_ being watched.”

“No, no. This is different,” the man said, turning away from Daniel’s general area and giving the Jedi an unobstructed view of the darkened veins on his neck – had they always been there? “Let’s get this done, it’s dangerous to linger here for too long.”

“Right.” The twi’lek took a breath. “I know what I have to do.”

Taral lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? That fast? No preparation? No hesitance? No stuttering incompetence? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Shut up, dick” she rolled her eyes, shaking her head before answering seriously, “They’ve been telling me what I have to do.”

He narrowed his eyes, his skin seemingly three shades paler than before. “You mean the spirits here?

“Indeed. They’ve been quite helpful so far.”

“Numa, you know not to—”

“ ‘Not to trust spirits,’ I remember,” she finished, “but… they aren’t the ones possessing the bodies. They’re not powerful enough to do that. Besides… how do you think we found this place so quickly?”

“Figures, and here I thought it was dumb luck,” he muttered under his breath. Looking back to her, we waved his hand in a circle, indicating her to go on. “Well, get on with it. We don’t have all day.”

“It’s nighttime.”

“You know what I fucking meant!”

“I do indeed,” she said with a smile, likely counting that as a win on her part. She approached the sarcophagus and knelt before it.

Daniel watched, wondering what would happen, but nothing did. She just knelt there, stock-still. And then he glanced around and froze himself as he saw the burning torches petrified in the air like sculptures of flame.

Glancing back to the sarcophagus, he noticed two things. One, the room felt off, like it was bereft of breathable air and held a chill as cold as Hoth – his breath condensing before his face. And two, the man, Taral, was staring straight at him. The corrupted veins he’d seen earlier were thicker now and much darker – whether due to darkening themselves or the contrast of his pallid skin, which was now near-ashen-white, who could say?

But it was the eyes that truly took Daniel’s breath away. They darkened in an unnatural manner, as if the pupil were leaching into the iris and sclera like shimmering tar, but then this sheen evaporated and all that was left was an empty void so black and unforgiving that it no longer appeared to be three-dimensional. It was simply a hole. Two cavernous holes staring at him without blinking.

Daniel’s heart was thumping in his chest and even through the vision, he felt… weaker. The room seemed darker, shadows swirling like smoky tendrils around this man. No. This _demon_. It pinned Daniel with its gaze, leaving him unable to move – as it had been on Korriban. The endless voids, they sapped his will and left his body rigor mortised. And the entire time, the demon’s power continued to grow and the room continued to dim, the shadows writhing like oily vipers. Yet unlike Valkorian, there was no strong emotion emanating from the man, only calm darkness. Only… hunger.

**_Why does it trespass?_ **

The voice enveloped him as if his soul were an amphitheatre.

**_Does it offer fealty?_ **

It was grating and cacophonous. Like a million screams into the void, each desperate to be heard.

**_No… it is but carrion._ **

The words were tinted with scorn. Daniel felt the judgment of eons upon him.

**_Food to the Void._ **

The voice was so loud and he felt so weak. Trapped. Claustrophobic. Make it stop! Please!

**_ Be gone. _ **

The vision abruptly ended and he could move again.

Even with the vision ended, he still felt weak; drained. He realized his heartbeat was dangerously reduced, and slowly recognized that he’d effectively been attacked by a life drain attack; a _powerful_ life drain attack. He’d never needed to recall the techniques to mitigate it, but was thankful he knew now, and a few minutes later his breathing and heart rate returned to normal. 

The image of the black eyes of the man were still burned into his vision, how for a brief moment, that voice had penetrated his mental defenses without effort. Daniel took a deep breath, as the implication hit him.

The man’s power was still building as the vision ended. He was not as powerful as Valkorian when it did, but still… it wasn’t natural.

And it posed a threat.

So much for Nox claiming that such entities didn’t walk the galaxy now, because Daniel was certain he had just seen one.

Now he needed to know how to stop it.

It was no longer a hypothetical question. The Force had shown him this for a reason, and he would not ignore the truth. The names of ‘Taral’ and ‘Numa’ in his mind, he departed the Temple, thoughts as grim as the black clouds that once more grew over Dromund Kaas.


	5. The Kathol Rift - Vision of Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLotH4’s Note: Shout-out to wanderer097 of FFnet who brought the Luka Sene to our attention.
> 
> Anyone who hasn’t played the Sith Inquisitor route of “Star Wars: The Old Republic,” I would suggest watching Retale’s playthrough on YouTube. It’s *essentially* what happened in SV canon, though as you will see, not quite.
> 
> Friendly reminder to the Jedi in the audience: size means nothing. Now get in there and read this monster!
> 
> Xabiar’s Note: Fun fact for this chapter: SLotH4 helped write some of it, which comes out to about to roughly 5-10% if my math is right. Or somewhere along that. Point being that this is obviously the biggest chapter, and one that’s been the most revised and expanded from the first draft. I’m very happy with how it turned out.
> 
> Much as some people don’t like the Eternal Empire, I’m glad it exists. It has a place in the story, and I hope to justify it and fix a few of the issues of that entire storyline. Like a lot of things, it had potential that wasn’t quite reached. Hopefully, it’s a bit more interesting here.
> 
> Also, see if you can spot the subtle product placement :) Remember to stay hydrated!

** SotP Tales - Prelude to Twilight **

* * *

PART V

_ The Kathol Rift - Vision of Pain _

* * *

There were certain advantages to having been part of the Sphere of Vigilance and Farsight, not least of which was having knowledge of every single blacksite, listening outpost, and observation station built, maintained, or utilized by the Sphere. This was especially useful when a low profile needed to be kept.

Technically, every Grand Master had the authority to visit or inspect, but it was typically not something that was inquired about – assuming it was known at all. There was a certain mystique surrounding the Sphere that discouraged investigation – even for those who technically had the authority. Daniel didn’t have the same reservation, for obvious reasons, though he had made an effort to distance himself from his old Sphere once he had been elevated.

A Grand Master should not appear to favor one aspect of the Order over others, even if he privately felt otherwise.

It was easier than most likely assumed, especially since he had decided that part of his life was over, and it would be preferable to put it behind him. It was time for the mantle to be passed, and he no longer had the ideal mindset to run the Sphere – even if he still deeply understood it. Yet now it seemed the longer he continued on this journey, the more he was pulled back into the web of secrecy and deception.

Even if it was for justifiable reasons, it seemed he was on a downward slope he couldn’t stop. Yet it still felt… good. Perhaps because for once, he was accomplishing something important. Something that he instinctively knew _mattered_.

Or perhaps it was simply because it was good to see some old friends.

“Daniel!” a familiar voice greeted.

Daniel smiled as he saw the director of Jedi Shadow Operations for the sector. Ilhan Tralas, an elderly bothan who, in addition to her status as a Jedi, was the point of contact into the Tralas House, and subsequently, the Bothan Spynet.

A useful connection, as she was a sitting member of the Shadow Council.

“Ilhan, a pleasure,” he greeted as he embraced the small bothan, “It’s been too long.”

“Indeed, Master Skywalker,” she agreed, separating and turning to walk the hallway, paying little mind to the droids and occasional Jedi Shadows that made their way past. Daniel held his cane in his hand, though here was one place he didn’t need to use it. “It _has_ been too long. I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me.”

“Of course not,” Daniel assured her, “Though I’m sure that Master Yaden has kept you well-informed on my whereabouts and the threats we continue facing.”

“Yes, we know much.” Ilhan shook her head in disgust. “Too much. It is disgusting what Undien and his allies are doing. With due respect, Grand Master, you are not doing enough to push back.”

“Most likely,” he acknowledged, “However, I feel like if I decided to out-politician Undien, it would not go well. I dislike his methods, and see no reason to fight him in a race to the bottom. Besides, all I need to do is walk the Temples for proof that the Order remains behind me. Undien may have an advantage politically, but he cannot smear me.”

“An optimistic interpretation. Ugh, Lara has rubbed off on you,” she snorted, though it wasn’t necessarily an insult, “There was a time you would have nipped this problem in the bud before it got out of control.”

“People change over time, Master,” Daniel said with a smile, “Though it doesn’t mean nothing can be done.”

“Well, considering you’re here – and Yaden was being very evasive about what you’re doing, I’ll defer to you for now,” she said as they reached the secure communications chamber, “Though I am curious, Daniel – why _are_ you here?”

“Following a lead,” he said, clasping his hands together, “Between us, it could threaten the entire Jedi Order.”

She narrowed her eyes, which turned thoughtful as she stroked the beard on the end of her long chin. “I see. Let me know if you need assistance. I can make Yaden put the Sphere at your disposal.”

“Unnecessary, but I appreciate it.” He smiled. “I don’t expect this to take long.”

The Shadow Councilor departed, leaving him in the dimly-lit holochamber that locked behind him. Walking over to the console, he inputted the desired holo-frequency. The station itself acted as a proxy to the wider galaxy; all the recipient would see is that he was broadcasting from somewhere in the Core Worlds, if they bothered to check at all. As of now, no one needed to know how close to the Unknown Regions he was.

Resting the tip of his cane on the ground and both hands over it, he waited for the call to go through. A few minutes later and the image of Terena Odan, Councilor of the Sphere of Recruitment and Training, materialized before him. A shrewd, ambitious, and dangerous woman, she was one of the most troublesome of the Council. A staunch ally of Undien, and engaged in the power plays some of the Council performed in the background, she was not someone that was… _reliable_.

Well, if one considered it in the context of loyalty. Terena was highly competent at her job, and at least treated him with courtesy and respect – even if she clearly thought someone else would be preferable as Grand Master. Had Undien not emerged as the primary rival, he would not be surprised if she was eying the role instead.

Wearing Jedi robes, hair pulled back into a tight bun with not a strand out of place, a simple lightsaber hanging at her side, and face etched into one that seemed perpetually disappointed, she inclined her head. _“Grand Master. Good to hear from you.”_

“The feeling is mutual, Councilor,” he returned, pretending to rest on his cane, “Thank you for assisting and speaking on such short notice.”

 _“It’s little trouble, Skywalker,”_ she said with a wave, _“Although it’s certainly not what I expected from you.”_

He cut straight to the chase. “You received the names then?”

_“Mm, I did.”_

“And?”

Terena consulted a datapad which appeared to have been resting on a nearby table. _“Well, I can find no Jedi in the past fifty years by the name or alias of ‘Taral.’ Nor any that are on our lists to recruit when they come of age._ ”

Daniel nodded. Based on what he’d seen, he doubted this ‘Taral’ had been a Jedi. Still worth a shot. Though that was only within the Jedi, it didn’t cover everything. “Did you check beyond the Jedi?”

 _“Yes, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this,”_ Terena said with slight annoyance in her voice, glancing at him, _“I reviewed what we have on the Quabular, Green Jedi, Baran-Do, and even the voss. The Imperial Knights also assisted. Nothing.”_ She fixed him with a professorial stare, one slightly expectant. _“It would be useful if I had some context for why you’re asking, Skywalker.”_

“A contact informed me that there was an individual by the name of ‘Taral’ planning an attack on one of our outposts in the Outer Rim,” Daniel lied without missing a beat, having prepared to be questioned on details, “Said he was a former Jedi or at least had training from them. The Clinics were likely the targets, but I know we have a number of military assets also deployed. I passed it on to Yaden and the Imperium. I was curious if there was any merit to it.”

_“Not Shartan?”_

“Waste of time.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or do you really think Shartan would give his garrisons advance warning that a failed Jedi was _maybe_ going to attack?”

 _“Of course not, with his fixation on ‘practical experience,’ ”_ Terena muttered with a disgusted tone, seeming to accept the story, as expected, _“Regardless, according to what I’ve found, this threat doesn’t appear to have merit, though it’s possible this individual is using an alias. If you want, I can crosscheck the description you provided with individuals who have left or been expelled from the Order. Alternatively, such individuals would attract bounties or be bounty hunters themselves. The Golden Board might have something.”_

Daniel cocked his head. “You have access?”

She snorted. _“Certainly not personally. But Undien has contacts in the AIS who do. It might be worth checking.”_

“Just do a crosscheck, I’d prefer we not involve the Zann Consortium or AIS unless necessary,” Daniel instructed, wanting to keep reasonably playing along, but definitely _not_ wanting to involve more parties than necessary. Perhaps it would it would still turn up something, though he had his doubts. “Pass anything you find on to me, Mateil, or Yaden. I’m sure you’d prefer we keep anything learned out of the hands of the Imperium, AIS, or Consortium.”

 _“Indeed,”_ Terena shifted to the next topic, _“Now, the other name you gave me, ‘Numa.’ I was able to uncover quite a lot.”_

 _Oh?_ Given that Taral had implied she was a Jedi, this wasn’t significant surprise, but it was an excellent development nonetheless. “I’m listening.”

 _“There are actually_ six _‘Numas’ in the Order at the moment – all twi’lek – but with your description of the girl I was able to narrow it down to one: Numa’lestin,”_ Terena stated, pressing a button on her datapad and a static image of a young twi’lek woman appeared. She was dressed in Jedi robes, notably a few years younger than the vision, but it was definitely the same woman. He kept his face blank, only lifting an eyebrow and giving a slight acknowledging nod. _“An individual I can best describe as a ‘trouble student.’ ”_

“How so?”

 _“The circumstances of her childhood and arrival, for one.”_ Terena grimaced. _“Her story is rather horrific. The girl was involved in a Ryloth-based twi’lek cult. We’re not clear on what happened, but at some point, they were wiped out. We don’t know if she was responsible or another actor intervened. Presumably after this she was captured by slavers, sold to Tuchanka the Hutt, and was eventually freed in one of Shartan’s slave raids.”_

Now that she mentioned it… “I seem to recall that,” he said slowly, recalling the incident, “It was on the agenda at one point, when I was a Councilor.”

 _“Yes. I was not on the Council at the time, but I remember her processing,”_ Terena recalled, _“She was badly damaged. Testing showed significant power, but given her past she was unstable. She was placed in the care of the Conciliators before even starting basic training.”_

That was not necessarily good news, especially with the rumors of what the Conciliators were involved in. Daniel was not ignorant of such rumors… though Tocrum was no fool and remained above scrutiny – for now. There were many legitimate Conciliators; likely a majority in fact… but Daniel knew better than to think there wasn’t something lurking under the surface.

_Don’t lie to yourself, there isn’t a question of what is happening. You just don’t want to press for fear of how deep it goes._

He remembered the corrupted form of Tocrum from the vision on Ahch-To. So many threats within and without of the Order, and he had to carefully balance them in a way that didn’t destroy the system entirely.

It was becoming more and more difficult to see the status quo remaining – or that it should be permitted at all. With some effort, Daniel pulled himself back from his musings and to the present and the topic at hand.

“I assume she recovered?” he asked neutrally.

 _“Debatable,”_ Terena mused, _“Enough to function in a stable environment, at least. Though in the course of her recovery, an affinity for speaking to spirits manifested, which on Tython, is obviously not ideal.”_

That lined up with what he’d heard. “Was she trained?”

 _“Daniel, I understand that it’s a useful skill, but this girl was nowhere **near** stable enough to ever properly learn spirit-talking and **not** become corrupted.”_ Terena sighed. _“She was already struggling with a frankly dangerous anger against slavers, criminals, and anyone she got irritated at. Though I will note that her anger at slavers seems… subconscious? She has no memory of her time with the hutt. Whether her psyche is suppressing the trauma or the Conciliators did…”_

“I see.” He considered that for a few moments. “Where is she now? The Militant Order?”

 _“No, thankfully,”_ she grunted, _“The fewer vengeful hounds Shartan has, the better._ _It’s bad enough he’s grooming Alana. Numa_ _did train with them for a time, but she left voluntarily. A surprisingly mature decision I might add. I suspect Peth-Trill-Senth-Dorn was a factor. She is now with the Sphere of Outreach and Aid. Warzone Relief, specifically. Under Master Tolo Korr, she became far more stable.”_

“Outreach and Aid?” He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

 _“Indeed. If you want more details, I suspect Master Ritten would have them,”_ she said, lowering the datapad, _“Alternatively, I can put you in contact with Master Korr himself.”_

“Provide me his contact information,” Daniel said, “I might reach out to him.”

 _“Of course,”_ Terena confirmed, shutting off the projection of Numa, and then fixing him with a piercing stare, _“Now, Skywalker, I am very curious what prompted this inquiry. Master Korr is going to find it odd if you take an interest in his Padawan, not to mention this was not a typical request, nor was it a typical Jedi as the subject.”_

“I was… accosted by a twi’lek,” Daniel recounted dramatically, putting in several relevant pauses, “A woman who accused me – or rather, the _Jedi_ – of kidnapping her child. ‘Numa’ was the name given. Since, to my knowledge, we aren’t kidnapping children, I wanted to follow up.” He rubbed his chin. “I’d thought it was nothing, but considering Numa’s past… is there a chance this woman could be related?”

Of course, Terena was not going to find a connection between Numa and the fictional twi’lek, but it was an expected question to ask all the same. Terena considered it, resting her chin in a hand, eyes briefly unfocused.

 _“Unlikely,”_ she said after a few moments, _“Even if they were related, her accusation is still false and Numa has no recollection of any living family – we suspect the mother was involved in that cult I mentioned, the assumption is that she perished with the other members. If this woman wishes to make a formal inquiry, we have HoloNet sites for that.”_

“I expected as much, and directed her there,” Daniel said with a nod, “Still, little point taking chances. Thank you, Councilor. You’ve been very helpful.”

 _“I’m glad to assist,”_ Terena said dryly, turning to fully face him, _“Before we finish, Master Skywalker, I do hope this means you’ll be returning to us. Your absence has been noticeable, and certain people are asking questions. Senators, President Oslam, people who need to speak to the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. To put it simply, we need the Grand Master, Skywalker. Especially as the Senate comes back into session.”_

“I understand that,” Daniel acknowledged calmly, “I will do my best, but I cannot make promises. There is much at stake. I trust you can understand.”

 _“I would understand more if you disclosed exactly what you are doing,”_ Terena said, betraying some legitimate frustration, _“Your recent jaunt is more reminiscent of your time as the Eternal Watcher than as the Grand Master. I have no doubt you have your reasons, but I believe the Council would be more understanding and appreciative if you shared what you consider so important_ _– even Councilor Tiian is wondering what you are up to._ _In fact, I am certain we would be willing to offer assistance so it could be completed faster.”_

“No doubt.” Daniel smiled thinly. “I cannot disagree with a desire for transparency, something I feel has indeed been lacking within the Jedi. I too wish to understand the contents of your meetings with Undien, or the shrouded actions of the Sphere of Diplomacy and Mediation, or why the lists of Conciliators keep changing. But unfortunately, we don’t always get what we want, Councilor.” He straightened, keeping his hands on his cane. “Save your false concern, Terena. I have no doubt you and Undien are appreciative of my absence.”

A brief flash of surprise appeared across her face as he finished, she had clearly not expected to be called out on her faux words so openly. Daniel maintained the smile and conciliatory tone, “Contrary to what you and others on the Council seem to believe, I am quite aware what happens within the Order. We all have our secrets and vices, and I have simply grown tired of them as I have aged. You are not entitled to knowledge of my actions any more than I am entitled to know your private conversations.”

Terena cleared her throat. _“Grand Master, there is no need to stoop to conspiracies. We are not enemies,”_ she sighed, _“Our concern is a real one, difficult as that may be for you to believe. Also contrary to your belief, no matter his skill, Undien is not the Grand Master, and what he can accomplish will be limited without your support. It is important we present a united front, regardless of disagreements we have behind the scenes”_

 _If only you truly believed that,_ Daniel mused ruefully. “As I said, I will endeavor to return as soon as possible. I understand your frustration, as this has taken longer than anticipated. But it is imperative I be allowed to finish properly. In the meantime, I trust everything will be kept under control.” He bowed his head. “Pass along my assurance to Councilor Tiian that I will return when I have finished. Again, your help is appreciated, Councilor. I will speak to you later.”

Terena was just able to get out a quick farewell before he severed the connection.

In the silence afterwards, minus the humming of machines, he wondered if he should have made such an overt jab. He was well aware Terena saw him as someone who was easy to work around; a perception that he was a largely ‘good’ Jedi through and through, who was unaware or ignorant of the darker side to the galaxy and the Order he presided over. He suspected that was due in part to his association and relationship to Lara.

But it was more influenced by the fact that a notable number of Councilors seemed to forget where he’d come from – or didn’t understand what such a position entailed, or how one achieved such a position. Even Pon seemed to forget at times, or downplay his related skills, although it was generally not a subject they had ever spoken about at length, despite their long-standing friendship.

It had, admittedly, been many years since he participated in the shadow wars of the galaxy, but he _had_ done so – and had not forgotten how to wage such a conflict either. Of course… now he didn’t take advantage of his skills or participate as he’d use to, so perhaps they had dismissed him as a hollow statue propped up by the legacy of his surname.

It didn’t hurt to remind them every now and then that he wasn’t blind to what was happening. Though Ilhan was right in that if he really wanted to… things could change. Had he not undergone some personal evolution, the Order could have now looked far different.

Though such methods were not the Jedi way. Or at least, they should not be what Jedi resorted to – sadly, such idealism was not practical in the galaxy they lived in. Besides, now there were more pressing matters to attend to. Threats which he could use to pull the Council in line should said threats become manifest. He returned to the console and typed in a very familiar holo-frequency, thankful that this next conversation would not require nearly as much subterfuge and evasion.

A few minutes later, the figure of a tall cerean in black clothing appeared. He would have appeared largely normal, were it not for the long double-bladed lightsaber that hung from his waist. Si-Wara-Yaden, Eternal Watcher of the Sphere of Vigilance and Farsight, Commander of the Shadow Council, and sitting representative on the High Council of Ossus made a short bow. _“Grand Master, an honor as always.”_

“No need for the formalities, Yaden.” Daniel waved his hand, telekinetically moving his cane to rest against the wall, now having no reason to keep it. “After Terena, I’d prefer to speak candidly.”

Yaden’s lip curled up. _“I take it she wasn’t happy?”_

“Miffed that I’m not on Coruscant now dealing with… some issue she declined to explain,” Daniel elaborated, before pausing, “I suspect it’s not important, but perhaps you would know.”

Yaden hummed, thinking as he brought a hand to his chin. _“Important? Yes and no, Daniel. As of next week, there will be a bill brought before the Senate Committee on Jedi Relations concerning the ‘Coruscant Transparency Act Concerning the Jedi Order’ or Senate Bill JO-9281. What is important is that, in short, it will be repealing the entire bill.”_

Daniel frowned, cocking his head. The Act in question was one of the oldest pieces of legislation still in effect, effectively established just before the Third Imperial Civil War. It had required the Jedi Order to install a certain amount of surveillance equipment within the Jedi Temple of Coruscant, with a later amendment applying it to all ‘major’ Jedi installations. Equipment which would be jointly managed by both the Alliance and Order itself. It was intended to provide legal redundancy and reduce potential corruption (and, of course, presumably keep an eye on the Order), but the actual implementation had been… limited at best.

Truthfully, none of the Jedi – Daniel included – were particularly fond of the Act, but when the cameras and equipment had been installed, they were very few in number, and countermeasures had been installed afterwards to make anything recorded or recovered close to useless. It had ended up being a positive PR development – one which Undien in particular had liked to point to as an example of ‘Jedi cooperation,’ but in reality, had not changed anything, and certainly not given the Senate any credible insight, oversight, or accountability over the Order.

Which made a decision to repeal it puzzling.

“Why?” he wondered aloud, “It is effectively useless as it is written. It was a public relations advantage if nothing else, one which has given us deniability. What do we gain by repealing it?”

 _“The Order? Nothing,”_ Yaden muttered, annoyance tinging his voice, _“This is Undien flexing his political muscles. It’s purely to show the Senate and his allies in the Order that he’s capable of controlling the Senate, at least when it comes to Jedi matters. He gets this pushed through, and he’ll get a lot of praise from within the Order. We don’t like being spied on, as you know, definitely not by the Senate. The fact that it’s a useless piece of law won’t register quickly enough.”_

“Building more support, I see,” Daniel said slowly, “Clever.”

 _“Frankly, I don’t have an issue with it myself,”_ Yaden admitted flatly, _“The problem is that Undien is going to claim this as his own victory, and he isn’t wrong. Both of us know he’s angling for your position, and actions like this bring him ever closer. We’re both sick of politics, but, Daniel, you cannot keep ceding political ground to Undien, otherwise people are going to start wondering why you’re Grand Master and he’s not_ _. Pon is your only advocate who will openly push back, and he is only one person_ _.”_

“It might help if you spoke up once in a while,” Daniel said wryly.

 _“I’d prefer Undien to believe I remain apolitical,”_ Yaden answered dryly, _“You should pose that question to Lara. Argument is not her way, but it does not serve our interests.”_

“Fair, but there is a disconnect between Undien and his allies and the greater Jedi Order,” Daniel noted, “My… distaste for politics is appealing to many in the Order, and I suspect it will continue to be.”

Yaden fixed him with a skeptical look. _“In an ideal galaxy, I would agree. The problem is you’re popular, but right or wrong, you’re not seen as especially engaged or necessarily competent. You’re good with people, not with your job. A Grand Master is a politician and is expected to do the whole show, and for better or worse, you don’t. Undien is filling that role in your stead. If we keep ignoring him, it’s going to be more difficult to say that you should be running the Order and not him – because as it stands, he’s a more visible and effective leader to the galactic community than you are. As Undien’s pet ideology becomes more popular, this will further erode your political standing.”_

“Somewhat difficult to enact change when the Council resists significant reforms.”

 _“Agreed,”_ Yaden agreed, _“It’s not right, but Undien and his people don’t play fair.”_ The cerean sighed. _“To sum up, Daniel, I know your mission is important, but frankly, we need you here for a multitude of reasons. I can’t openly counter Undien’s bloc on my own, that would reflect badly on both of us. Lara_ _is_ _too passive,_ _Pon is passionate but politically impotent,_ _Palavola is continually distracted, and Shartan is unreliable. If you’re back_ _,_ _you can at least_ _pull_ _your allies into a united front.”_

Daniel paused for a brief moment, thinking on what to say. Had it been any other mission, back when Undien was seen as the largest threat to the future of the Jedi, he would have agreed. Now though…

“It’s not as simple,” Daniel said slowly, “Undien is not the largest threat, even if he is one at all anymore.”

Yaden narrowed his eyes. _“Come again?”_

“Undien and I differ on many things,” Daniel said, “Especially on the future of the Order. However, I don’t believe he is… inherently malicious. Or irredeemable.”

 _“Daniel, this is not the time for redemptive wishes,”_ Yaden said dryly, _“but I’ll humor you – if Undien isn’t the largest problem, then what is?”_

Daniel clasped his hands together. “Truthfully, I’m still not sure. One is certain, the other is not.”

Yaden grunted. _“Wonderful.”_

“But I do know that both pose a threat to the Jedi.”

_“Then please elaborate.”_

“The Sith have clearly reformed to a degree,” he began, recalling what he’d seen and learned, “I’m not sure of their exact size, but they are operating in the Unknown Regions and Outer Rim.”

 _“We’ve suspected as much since Korriban.”_ Yaden nodded. _“Any additional details?”_

“It seems to be centered around figures to a degree,” Daniel recalled, “Orders of various Sith. Jadus, Revan, Ragnos, Nox, potentially more.”

_“A cult? We’ve encountered these before.”_

“Possibly, I’m not sure,” Daniel admitted, “Most of what I learned is incomplete and accidental. I’m not certain they’re even fully united. The… Sith – a term I use loosely – on Dromund Kaas seemed to be disassociated with the ‘Collective Sith,’ which I gather is the umbrella term for their alliance.”

 _“Sith not being united? How shocking,”_ Yaden grunted, _“You call the individuals you encountered ‘Sith in name only’… why?”_

“They lack inherent corruption.” Daniel shrugged. “Of course, I could have only seen a fraction, but there was a young woman who was deeply embedded in their culture who remained uncorrupted, I suspect it is not an anomaly.”

 _“They will have to be dealt with regardless.”_ Yaden considered for a few moments. _“I don’t suppose you learned who is leading this Collective?”_

“There was a name – Timoris. She seems to be deeply feared.” Daniel paused. “She may not be the leader, but she certainly has influence.”

_“Noted. I’ll have the Shadows listen for the name. If she is not the leader, do you know who is?”_

“Only a name,” Daniel said, “Vathila. Though the impression I got is that she isn’t as involved on Dromund Kaas, if at all. Given the more visceral reaction to Timoris, this Vathila might not be the true center of power.”

 _“Too much is unknown,”_ Yaden muttered, _“This seems too organized to be a simple cult or a remnant.”_

“Sith survival in the Unknown Regions was always a possibility.” Daniel nodded. “We assumed the Sith on Korriban were a remnant, but we might have been wrong about their capabilities.”

 _“That bodes poorly,”_ the cerean grunted, _“The last thing we need right now is a resurgence of Sith.”_

“Agreed, but it’s dangerous to ignore the possibility,” Daniel finished, “There are several other names and pieces I gleaned from their minds. I’ll send you a complete report soon.”

 _“Good,”_ Yaden nodded, _“I’ll consult with Pon on this. He knows the Unknown Regions better than any of us. He might know some areas where the Sith may be hiding out. It might be worth sending some Scouts to investigate.”_

“Yes,” Daniel agreed, “but the Sith are only one threat. There is another one; less defined, but I believe it is present. Not just to us either, the Sith could also succumb.”

_“I’m listening.”_

Daniel shook his head, grimacing. “Not here. I don’t want to risk it, even on an encrypted channel. But the visions have shown me glimpses, and I am getting closer to the truth.”

Yaden appraised him, then gave a short nod. _“I’ll accept that for now. I don’t suppose it has something to do with the names you sent?”_

“Everything to do with them, in fact.”

_“I’ve found nothing on a ‘Taral.’ Aside from a translation. I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on it.”_

“Explain.”

 _“It’s Old Sithese. It means ‘He Who Protects,’ or more broadly, ‘protector.’ ”_ Yaden’s lips curled slightly _. “An ironic name for the supposed herald of our doom.”_

Ah, so it was. Now that it was mentioned, he vaguely remembered the term, though in the texts which used the language, that particular word was scarcely mentioned – to the point where it had slipped his mind completely. Not surprising considering that concepts like ‘protection’ and ‘defense’ were rarely encouraged. “Interesting. Perhaps he was raised Sith… or he took a title.”

 _“Likely the latter. They’re quite fond of ‘shedding their old identity’ and all that,”_ Yaden said, briefly consulting an off-screen display, _“Assuming we’re not looking too deeply into it, of course. It’s not an unheard_ _-_ _of name in the galaxy. As for your second name, I assume if you talked to Terena before me, she probably told you about Numa – assuming it’s the same person you had in mind.”_

“Yes, it’s definitely her,” Daniel confirmed.

 _“Right.”_ Yaden crossed his arms. _“So why is a traumatized twi’lek healer the harbinger for the death of the Order?”_

“I doubt she is,” Daniel amended, “Not from what I saw… but her companion, Taral… she has a connection to him, and he could be a problem.”

_“A vision of the future then.”_

“I believe so.”

 _“Well, that’s good news.”_ Yaden nodded. _“At least we found one of the two. If your vision is accurate, they will eventually run into each other.”_

“Or not.” Daniel shrugged. “But if you don’t mind, I want an eye kept on her. Make sure she isn’t touched by anyone – particularly Undien’s allies. If there is anything out of the ordinary, inform me. I’m not sure what role she has to play, but we should not take chances.”

 _“I’ll do it,”_ Yaden confirmed, _“If she’s in Warzone Relief, Lara may have some suggestions. She has an affinity with helping broken people.”_

“I’ll speak to her as well,” Daniel agreed, “Though I’m not sure what she’ll suggest that is different. It is likely she is already aware of Numa and doing what she can for her.”

 _“Acceptable in any case.”_ Yaden stroked his chin. _“If you’re not coming back now, what is next?”_

“The aing-tii. I make for the Kathol Rift when we’re finished.”

Yaden’s eyebrows shot up as he made the connection. _“Flow-walking?”_

“Yes.”

_“You know the—”_

“I’m well aware of the limitations and dangers,” Daniel preemptively interjected, “I’m not interested in seeing the future… not this time. The past is where I will find answers.”

Yaden pursed his lips, crossing his arms. _“And what exactly do you hope to learn, Daniel?”_

The old Grand Master thought for a moment before giving his answer, “What I will need to do next.”

* * *

The Kathol Rift was both beautiful and deadly.

A region of space that was so dangerous only the greatest of pilots would even attempt navigating; a maelstrom of ion storms, asteroid belts, black holes, gravity shears, and corrosive nebulae. The unpredictably of the Rift was just as much a danger as the elements it held. Few knew what, if anything, was beyond the Rift, and its location outside vital hyperlanes and supply lines made it unappealing for many to investigate. The risk was simply too high, and the rewards limited at best.

It coalesced into a colorful, dramatic, and artful wonder of the galaxy that was best observed from far, far away.

To Daniel’s knowledge, the only individuals who regularly moved through the Rift were some _very_ specialized smugglers, numerous special forces and intelligence operatives – of both the Imperium and Alliance – as well as a few elite criminal units. Early in his tenure, Pon had once taken a team of Jedi Scouts into the Rift, and it had been, to put it lightly, a harrowing experience. Enough that Pon had sworn he would never go back into the Rift again.

And then, of course, there was the dominant power of the Rift, the aing-tii. 

Though perhaps calling them a ‘dominant’ power was a stretch, though not for the typical reasons.

On paper, the aing-tii were utterly terrifying. The estimated threat level the species posed was what had initially made him concerned about the species many years ago, much like the voss. However, through wisdom earned through experience, he had eventually learned that intelligence reports and military reports omitted important context, and it was best not to rely on them for a complete, wholesome picture.

It was true that the aing-tii had mastered the art of flow-walking, a complex Force technique that allowed one to see into the past and future. It was also true that their technology defied certain laws of reality, as it was infused with the Force. As a result, it was close to impossible to fully compare them to the galactic standard.

Their spacecraft in particular didn’t use hyperdrives, and instead relied on some unknown engine that permitted aing-tii ships to teleport to a desired location – which had subsequently allowed them to navigate and bypass the Rift entirely. This particular revelation was especially distressing to military officials, but the truth was that the aing-tii were not an aggressive species; certainly not one which would seek war.

Aing-tii reminded him of the voss, although unlike the voss, they did not receive traditional visions, and no matter what they saw, they never moved to change it. It was a fascinating philosophy, which largely amounted to: _‘One will be guided by the Force on a path even if they wished to avoid it.’_

It was not… something Daniel completely agreed with. The view of the future was not necessarily static among the aing-tii, but there was an inherent resistance to doing anything to alter it. Admittedly, that was something Daniel could agree with to an extent, as trying to affect the future could potentially make things worse – or unwittingly bring about the future one wished to avoid in the first place.

At the same time…

_“Always in motion is the future, and many possible futures there are.”_

Many futures, but only one past.

Today at least, he was not concerned with what would happen, but what already had.

The door to his quarters opened and an aing-tii entered. Physically, the aliens were imposing, standing almost two meters as overlapping stony plates covered their bodies. Green tongues would occasionally emerge from their mouths when they spoke, and their language was unsettling to the human ear.

It didn’t help that to the untrained eye, all aing-tii looked the same, with only minor differences in size. However, aing-tii were distinguished through the painted markings, symbols, and motifs across their plates. Each of these was unique to the individual aing-tii, and revealed something about them, though Daniel was still far from fluent in interpreting them.

He was, however, able to identify different aing-tii by their markings, which was more than even most Jedi could say. “Aldas’Lo,” he greeted with a bow, “An honor to see you once more, honored monk.”

＜＜We have looked forward to your return for some time, Master Daniel Skywalker,＞＞ he answered in a tongue of clicks and slurps, ＜＜You come at a time of twilight for your people.＞＞

Coming from an aing-tii, that had unfortunate weight – though he certainly wasn’t wrong. Nothing he had learned had dissuaded him of this belief. “Indeed,” he answered, inclining his head, “I am seeking answers. Ones to guide the Jedi through this temporary twilight.”

＜＜Answers you may learn, Master Daniel Skywalker,＞＞ Aldas’Lo warned, ＜＜but what you see, you may not be able to change.＞＞

“I do not intend to look to the future today,” Daniel corrected, “It is the past where I seek answers.”

＜＜Ah, I see,＞＞ the aing-tii clicked, ＜＜A less dangerous approach. Your familiarity with flow-walking will assist you here; you are less likely to become lost among the currents. You seek a specific individual or event, yes?＞＞

“I do,” Daniel withdrew the Sith holocron which glowed with a red malevolence, along with the lightsaber. The aing-tii did not seem disturbed by the Sith artifact, though they were also among those who did not view the Force in binary shades of light and dark, but along a spectrum, which they commonly described as a ‘rainbow.’

A unique metaphor for sure; though a bit too generous for his tastes.

“The holocron and lightsaber of Darth Nox, of the Sith Empire,” Daniel explained, although he doubted the alien would know of them, “I wish to see her life as she fought against the Eternal Empire of Zakuul.”

The aing-tii stiffened, went quiet for a few seconds, then spoke, the speech noticeably slower; more deliberate, ＜＜You seek knowledge on the Heralds, Master Daniel Skywalker?＞＞

Daniel frowned, lowering the objects, not expecting the question. “Not… explicitly, honored monk. I am unaware of what a ‘Herald’ is.”

Aldas’Lo flicked his tongues, which Daniel recognized as a sign of agitation. ＜＜Such beings are Heralds of Those Who Dwell Behind the Veil. Vessels of power charged with preparing the galaxy for the Fall of the Veil.＞＞ There was a pause. ＜＜It is unsurprising you have not heard of them from us, as their existence and purpose have only been seen by the Prophets – and the Veil yet remains intact. In truth, they are an enigma, even to us.＞＞

The enigmatic deities of the aing-tii were not exactly the most reliable of starting points – but it was something he had not known. It made sense that entities such as Valkorian would have an impact on the aing-tii who witnessed them.

“Regardless of what they represent, my mission is clear. Perhaps I can learn something your people can use.”

＜＜Perhaps, but be warned, Master Daniel Skywalker – to follow the path of Heralds invites risk, as they see and act beyond our own limited perspective.＞＞

Daniel remembered the experiences with Valkorian and Taral. “I understand the risks, but there are answers I must find.”

The aing-tii clicked, ＜＜Then let us begin, Master Daniel Skywalker.＞＞

The aing-tii sat along the ground and Daniel similarly knelt. The medical machines that had been set off to the side Daniel pulled closer with a telekinetic nudge. Among the risks of flow-walking was that individuals could spend hours or days lost in the Force, and their body would begin to atrophy if precautions weren’t taken.

The solution the aing-tii had developed was simply automating the process as much as possible, by having flow-walkers fitted with breathing apparatuses and IV tubes. Daniel inserted the IV and put the breathing mask on, and a brief check of the machine confirmed it was working. He took a few breaths to adjust to the machine, and relaxed.

The aing-tii inclined his head once Daniel finished, as he continued speaking, ＜＜Remember to anchor yourself, lest you become swept away in the currents of the Force.＞＞

Daniel closed his eyes, and steadied his breathing, letting the Force wash over him as he listened to the guiding voice of the monk.

＜＜ _Focus on the Objects of Sight; see where it intersects along the currents. Follow through the currents of the Force; follow and listen._ ＞＞

The dissociation of flow-walking began, where he felt his spirit separate from his physical body, a thoroughly disquieting experience if one had never experienced it before. The Force no longer flowed around him so much as he himself was now a part of it; the rivers and currents of it he could perceive and feel.

A snapshot of all of what was and what could be.

The ‘Objects of Sight,’ the holocron and lightsaber, he reached to them and saw where their currents intersected… and diverged. He was not quite sure where to start, but it would have been closer to the end of Nox’s life. She had died in the war, but it had taken years to emerge victorious.

Time wasn’t straightforward here, but he had experience with flow-walking before. It had been years since his last proper walk, but he remembered the fundamentals.

＜＜ _Listen and follow. Now **see**._＞＞

There was a rush of light and energy, and Daniel found himself in the first memory.

* * *

Daniel found himself in what seemed to be a massive, transparent sphere. He saw himself on the edge of a circular platform within the sphere which had a catwalk that extended to a door on one of the ends. The transparisteel revealed the sphere hovering over a heavily developed planet that resembled Coruscant, while the twinkling lights of stars shone around them.

He saw that the sphere he was inside was anchored to a massive tower that extended from the ground. The odd structure only captured his attention for a few moments, before he saw who and what was inside of it. In the center of the platform were steps that led to a throne atop, upon which sat Valkorian, clad in the same gleaming armor he’d worn before.

The Eternal Emperor was not alone.

Along the catwalk extending to the exit stood two dozen individuals who Daniel assumed to be guards. They wore armor that emulated the style of Valkorian, though were far plainer in decoration and seemingly heavier duty. The white on their armor lacked the sheen Valkorian’s held, but it could have been due to the lighting. Golden capes fell from their shoulders and the helmets they wore he recognized as similar to those identified as the so-called ‘Zakuul Knights,’ though with more rounded tops. White light glowed from the eyes, and unignited lightsaber pikes were held in their hands, the ends resting firmly on the ground.

Daniel moved carefully to stand near the catwalk, near the front of the throne itself. Valkorian had not reacted to him yet, and there was another figure standing at the foot of the throne. A man in golden armor with black markings and highlights. Half of his face was encased in an oddly incomplete helmet that which covered his mouth and left eye, with a golden eyepiece, and the top of his head was uncovered. Likely some kind of life-support system.

His left arm was wholly artificial, the remaining eye a harsh brown, and with an almost shaved head. The arms of the man were crossed, and he was pacing as if anxious. An ornate lightsaber hung at his waist, and Daniel could sense that the man – while not having the overwhelming aura of Valkorian – was extremely powerful.

Even the guards in the room were worryingly powerful, at least as strong as the most powerful Jedi Knights.

The door hissed open and two figures walked in. The first Daniel immediately recognized as Darth Nox, though in far worse condition compared to Dromund Kaas. Parts of her hair and skin were burned away, leaving bloody scabs and burned flesh. Her clothes were torn and ragged. Her wrists were in slim binders, locked together behind her back, and the blindfold she’d worn had been torn off, exposing the milky-white eyes of her species that stared sightlessly ahead.

The second figure, he didn’t recognize – they commanded far more attention. It was a woman, clad in lighter black armor than the other soldiers in the room, which to Daniel’s eye, seemed more practical for a battlefield; it reminded him of the armor some of the Shadows wore for particularly dangerous assignments. A single orange stripe ran diagonally down the chest, the emblem of Zakuul was emblazoned on the shoulders, and a lightsaber hung from her belt.

A rounded helmet was tucked under her arm, similar to the guards in the room, though not as bulky. Thick brown hair framed a pale face, within which were set amber eyes with small orb-like ornaments Daniel didn’t recognize attached to her forehead. A wry satisfied smile was on her face as she shoved the defeated Nox forward with her free hand.

Valkorian simply watched in silence as Nox was brought forward. The woman fell to one knee when she reached the steps before the throne, bowing her head. “Darth Nox, as you requested, father.”

Valkorian motioned for her to rise. “Efficient as expected, Horizon Commander.”

“I trust she did not cause you trouble?” the harsh synthesized voice of the other man inquired.

The woman smirked. “She had a few tricks, but she is as blind as the rest of her kind. It was disappointing, truly.”

Nox scowled, but didn’t say anything.

Valkorian nodded to the man, who stepped forward. “Clear the room!”

The woman frowned at the command, giving a side glance to the guards who had immediately started filing out, which Daniel took advantage of to move onto the catwalk to get a better view.

“That includes you as well, _Horizon Commander_ ,” the man gestured, a mocking emphasis put on the final words.

The woman looked to Valkorian for confirmation, who simply gave a single nod. Clearly unhappy, if her slight pout was anything to go by, she nonetheless turned around and joined the exiting guards. As she reached where Daniel was standing, she stopped, and looked in his direction, her head cocked and an eyebrow raised. Daniel froze, though unlike previous times, there was no anchoring power imposed over him.

A few tense seconds passed, before she unexpectedly smiled, her eyes lighting up dangerously, then continued forward and didn’t look back. Daniel released a breath, though he now realized that woman seemed to _also_ be one of these beings of power. How many had existed back then?

A question to figure out later, as he turned back to the trio.

“Why did you bring me here?” Nox finally demanded, her voice surprisingly strong and steady even in the face of her injuries, “To gloat? To kill me?”

“I have little cause to gloat before an _insect_ such as yourself,” Valkorian said with a drawling voice, standing, before descending the steps, “If I _wished_ your death, I would have ordered Vaylin to _execute_ you.”

The armored woman was presumably ‘Vaylin’ then – a name he now remembered from the vision on Korriban.

“Then enlighten me, Valkorian,” Nox said, “I have little interest in playing games. You would do well to not underestimate me.”

“Do not test the Eternal Emperor,” the man hissed, “You are fortunate to be standing here at all.”

“At ease, Arcann.” Valkorian directed a placating hand toward him. “She proposes a valid question. But I _am_ curious, little Sith, why do you believe you have authority or _power_ to make threats? Is it self-defense? Self-denial?”

“Neither, Valkorian,” she spat, “I have power to rival yours.”

“Do you refer to the spirits bound to you?” Valkorian asked with amusement, cocking his head to the side, “Ahh… were you holding _back_ against Vaylin? Perhaps intending to be brought before me? Believing you could unleash your power on an unsuspecting crowd?” He spread his arms, effectively daring her to strike his exposed frame. “Go on, little Sith, call the spirits to your aid. Show me your _power_.”

A few tense seconds followed.

For the first time, Nox seemed afraid. It didn’t happen instantly, but she clearly tried to do something… and when it failed, her features froze and she took a step back as she struggled to form a verbal response, “You… What did you do…? How…?”

“You know far less than you believe, Sith,” Valkorian said with the smallest of smiles, “The Force and all which comprises it serves _me_. Your spirits remain bound to your mortal shell, but I have rendered them _silent_. My grasp extends beyond life itself, Sith. All of your _power_ means _nothing_ before me.” The smile grew. “Or perhaps, to use a phrase you would be familiar with, it falls apart as easily as a human life.”

She scowled as he turned away to face the throne, with his back to her. “I know _far_ more about you than you know. I know where you came from, how you clawed your way from _nothing_ to standing before me. Your potential exists, but remains… untapped.” He almost sounded disappointed as one hand stroked his beard. “Yet the Sith stunted your growth; imprisoning you in the mindset of a survivor; one incapable of concession, empathy, or cooperation. It has reduced you to a small and close-minded woman who grasps for power she no longer has; without power, you have been rendered _irrelevant_.”

Valkorian clasped his hands behind his back as Nox fumed, her discomfort apparent.

“But I can see _some_ use for you. Your Empire lies in ruins and your Dark Council is dead – you are the only one preserved. While I could simply appoint my own people to rule the ashes and rebuild, I suspect those who live in your Empire would respond better to one of their own. I am not unreasonable, Darth Nox. I have little to fear from traitors and dissidents, and my trust is… _generous_. Your colleague Marr was given an offer, one I will now propose to you.”

Valkorian turned back around, and Sith and Immortal locked eyes. “I can _give_ you what you always wanted.” Valkorian extended a hand. “Power, undisputed authority, an Empire that can prosper and thrive; one not dominated by petty squabbles of Sith as it had been for so long. I can provide this to you, if you will allow yourself to be remade, to cast off your past – if you will kneel to become a harbinger of the Eternal Throne.”

A few long moments of silence dragged out. The miraluka pursed her lips, and Daniel suspected her answer before she said a word.

“No,” Nox stated flatly, “I made a promise to myself long ago – I will never kneel to any man, woman, emperor, or ruler ever again. Kill me if you desire, but I will _never_ submit. I did not before Jadus, nor to Revan, and I will certainly not bow to _you_.”

Valkorian sighed, but did not seem surprised. “Unfortunate, but expected. Perhaps you will ponder upon your mistakes when you serve as an Exarch. Arcann, prepare her for the Abyss.”

“Of course, father,” the armored man walked before Nox while Valkorian turned back to the Throne. However, when he reached Nox he closed the cybernetic fingers of his artificial hand and Daniel just barely heard the binders shatter, the pieces telekinetically placed silently on the ground. What Arcann said next, Daniel had to strain to hear, and could not have reached the ears of Valkorian.

_“Do not move.”_

With blinding speed that Daniel wasn’t able to follow, Arcann dashed directly toward the Emperor, the lightsaber appearing in Arcann’s hand and a blazing yellow blade ignited – stabbing through the heart of Valkorian. Arcann slashed upwards, bisecting Valkorian’s head, and then followed up with a horizontal slash across his torso, then finished with a flourish as the pieces of Valkorian clattered to the ground.

Daniel blinked in disbelief.

Was… was that it?

Never mind the fact that it seemed that Nox _hadn’t_ been the one to kill Valkorian. He’d just… died? Could it be that simple? Was betrayal and surprise all it took?

Nox seemed equally stunned. “How did you do that? _Why_?”

“My father was not invincible,” Arcann said, turned back to her, sheathing the lightsaber with a hiss, “I’ve planned this moment for a long time. As for why…” He appraised the Sith with an almost malevolent eye. “We had _disagreements_ about the goals and future of the Eternal Empire. I have little interest in conflicts and wars beyond our borders, yet my father insisted on conflict regardless. I care little for your people or your enemies. You will never pose a threat to us, and interfering elevates your people to a status you have not, nor will ever earn. There is little point antagonizing others unnecessarily as a result.”

“And I suppose you will become Emperor?” Nox asked warily, seeming to not completely buy the explanation.

“It is _likely_ ,” Arcann stressed, “There are no contenders but for Vaylin.”

Nox shot an alarmed glance to the door. “I think you overlooked the fact that they’re going to think _I_ killed him!”

“They will,” Arcann stated, approaching her, “You will be taken away, but not killed. I will ensure it. This was your best chance of survival. I am the High Justice of Zakuul, and your sentence will be temporary imprisonment in carbonite. When I am Emperor, you will be released to your people. While the circumstances are not ideal, complete isolation is no longer… feasible. Nor in the interests of the Throne. I will expect you to remember this.”

“I… see.” Nox nodded, still grimacing. “Though it does not appear I have a choice.”

“No, and our time now is mere moments.” Arcann tossed her the lightsaber which she caught and ignited. “Play your role and you will live. Attack me!”

Nox spun the lightsaber awkwardly, and just in time as the doors burst open and the guards charged inside, headed by Vaylin with an expression of disbelief and fury plastered on her face. When she saw the pieces of Valkorian on the ground, and Nox blasting Arcann with a purple stream of lighting, she shot out a hand and the lightsaber in Nox’s hand flew to her, and the lightsaber stream was abruptly cut off as Nox was lifted into the air, grasping her throat.

“Our Immortal Emperor is dead,” Arcann hissed, pretending to struggle to rise, “Fool sister! She broke free and struck before I could act!”

A flash of panic appeared on Vaylin’s face. “No! No, it can’t be! I made sure she was secure.”

“And yet, he is _dead_.” Arcann punched Nox in the gut as she was dropped to the ground, sucking in air and holding her throat. “Your negligence killed our Emperor. Our _father_.”

The panic on Vaylin’s face had faded, which had given way to confusion as she appraised the aftermath. “Nox killed him…?”

“Yes, she struck him down.” Arcann kicked Nox pointedly, which Daniel interpreted as a signal for Nox to say something. “After he gave you a _generous_ offer.”

“To live as a puppet,” Nox wheezed, coughing and looking up at Vaylin with unrestrained hatred, “I had _warned_ him not to underestimate me. You all would be wise not to do the same.”

Vaylin’s lips turned down into a small, confused frown. “So, you are saying that this woman… a Sith _I_ captured personally, and _did_ secure before bringing her, managed to not only break her restraints, but _also_ kill father _before_ you or he could act?”

“So it seems,” Arcann growled, trying his absolute best to sell the story, “We both failed today.”

“No…” Vaylin raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “I have my doubts about that, brother. You are saying that father – who conquered Korriban _on his own_ – died to a pathetic Sith like this? Dearest brother, forgive me for being skeptical, but something is not quite right.”

“Watch your words carefully, sister,” Arcann warned in a dangerous voice, “You were not here. I admit to my… _failure_ … to prevent this tragedy. But do not make such _insinuations_.”

“I’ve not made any accusations yet,” Vaylin said slowly, “Merely pointed out some issues in your recounting. I’m certain that when the Scions see her memories, they will learn the truth.”

“I am the High Justice!” Arcann stepped forward, recalling the lightsaber to his hand. “I do not need confirmation of what I witnessed with my own eyes!”

“Actually, no,” Vaylin countered, lifting a palm, unimpressed, “As High Justice you should be aware of the law and procedure. Both of which are vital in this _particular_ situation.”

“And I assure you,” Arcann promised, “As Emperor, this Sith will be appropriately punished.”

Vaylin snorted. “Brother, you are not Emperor yet. That is for the Scions to determine, as father did not name his successor.”

“It is effectively certain, sister,” Arcann growled, “And I would prefer we move on, as the loss of our great Emperor, our _father_ , will need to be addressed.”

“Indeed.” Vaylin gestured, and Nox was suddenly lifted into the air and flung toward her retinue. “Ensure she is medically stable and freeze her,” Vaylin ordered two of the guards, “She may be useful for forcing compliance from the Sith holdouts.”

“C-Commander, she killed the Emperor,” one of the guards protested, albeit with a slight stammer of fear, “She cannot be punished so lightly!”

Vaylin shook her head, a light smile on her face. “This little worm didn’t kill our Emperor. She could barely fight off the Horizon Guard; she posed no threat to me, and out of the many more powerful and intelligent Sith who once lived, it is _her_ who killed our Emperor? No, there is only one culprit here, and it is _not_ Darth Nox.”

Arcann ignited his lightsaber which was held at his side, the opposite fist clenched as the air itself tremored. “Tread _carefully_ , Vaylin. You are speaking to the High Justice of Zakuul.”

Vaylin’s lightsaber flew to her hand, a bright orange bladed igniting and pointed at the guilty man. “As the Commander of the Horizon Guard, you are under detention for suspicion of assassination and murder. You will be examined by the Scions to determine your guilt or innocence.” She smiled. “It’s not hard, brother, if you truly _are_ innocent, you have little to worry about. If you emerge free, you can execute me yourself.”

The guards took a defensive stance, white blades igniting from their saber-pikes. Vaylin maintained her smile as the Force wavered and warped with an intensity Daniel had never felt before. With a roar, Arcann leapt at them, fury in his eye. Yet before Daniel could see the conclusion, it abruptly ended and he was thrown back into the currents, with only moments to catch himself before being thrown into another memory.

* * *

The scene materialized in a fluid rush, which he’d been swept into without any choice. Flow-walking had that effect at times; sometimes there were options in where one could go, and other times were… more forced. He didn’t mind. If he’d been brought here, it was likely to be because there was something he was supposed to see.

Daniel looked around, taking in his surroundings. From the sweaty, soggy clothing of the people nearby, it was likely a hot and humid environment. A glance over the railing showed the drop-off to a cliff, with people milling about on the beaches below. Squinting his eyes, he could see humans and twi’leks amongst them, but they were far outnumbered by an avian species. The rishii. Interesting – and almost guaranteeing this was their homeworld of Rishi – the climate seeming to confirm his suspicions.

He saw a nearby enclosure, one with a pair of soldiers standing outside. With nothing else to go on, he walked into the enclosure, the guards not reacting to the invisible observer in any tangible way. Stairs descended to a room that appeared to be a makeshift office or command center, judging from the number of computers and tablets, with even some paper notepads of all things strewn on a table.

Though what caught his eye was the high-end holo-communications equipment. It struck him how odd it was that he could manage to pick out specific components that indicated that the holo-communicator was capable of performing specially-encrypted communications and had enough power to reach across the galaxy.

There was only one occupant at the moment as he descended completely into the room.

Standing with her back to him and leaning on a table with slouched shoulders, was a woman of pale complexion and blonde hair. She looked weary. Her amber eyes framed with dark bags that bespoke of restless nights. The jitter in her fingers might be stress, or the effects of stimulant use. Yet still she pored over the data streams. No hint of her fatigue in her sharp glances and finger movements across the computer keys.

Daniel appraised her closely, questions running through his mind. This was not what he expected to see next, especially since there was no tangible connection to Nox – unless she would appear later.

Who was this woman?

Why was she—

Daniel glanced to her belt and saw the familiar lightsaber he’d purloined from Nox’s Tomb. If _she_ was carrying the lightsaber, she had either somehow acquired Nox’s lightsaber _or_ she was Lana Beniko. Which would mean the lightsaber he had picked up was hers – explaining why he was seeing this now.

A light blinked on a holo-communicator and Lana immediately clicked it – an image materialized into a human with darkened skin and the drab attire of a raider or pirate. His face was dirty and clothes stained. His features were set in a very grim expression, arms crossed as he looked upon Lana. _“That was fast.”_

“Was it successful?” Lana asked without wasting time.

 _“Not even close.”_ The man scowled. _“Trying to get the Republic and Imperial remnants to even consider working on an actual joint goal is worse than herding rancors. Jace almost punched me when I – politely, mind you – suggested trying to free some Imperial captives.”_

“Shortsighted fool,” Lana muttered, “No one pushed back?”

 _“Lana, I’m a glorified pirate that got caught up with Nox,”_ the man retorted, _“I’m not a fucking diplomat or military man. Yeah, I can plan ops, but no one is going to listen to me on anything important. Jace thinks Ashara is a Dark Jedi, and I think he might actually kill me if I brought Khem or name-dropped Nox. You know, the woman who was_ number one _on the Republic’s hit list for a while.”_

Lana closed her eyes, releasing a deep sigh. “This alliance won’t last if we can’t get past this mistrust.”

_“No wonder Nox fell for you, with such profound insights.”_

“This is not the time, Revel,” she snapped, “Have you _looked_ at what we’re facing if we don’t do something _now_?”

 _“As a matter-of-fact, I have,”_ the man called ‘Revel’ said, _“On that front, I can at least get a majority of pirates interested in raiding the puppets. Though_ no one _is going to touch Eternal territory.”_

“And that’s what we need to hit,” Lana muttered, “I’ll need to talk to Theron. He promised there was a breakthrough with Jace.”

 _“Jace only plays nice with Theron because he salvaged the SIS,”_ Revel said bluntly, _“You really think he trusts him enough to risk his men to a Sith? I’m also going to point out that your Imperial friends aren’t exactly leaping at the possibility of springing Republican political prisoners.”_

“I’m aware.” Lana paused for a long second. “If she were here, things would be different.”

 _“Yeah,”_ Revel’s voice had a tinge of regret, _“Honestly, any of the old guard would be able to pull something together. Satele, Marr, they’d at least be listened to. Instead, a pirate, a pseudo-Jedi, a mid-ranking SIS veteran, and a Sith intelligence woman are trying to build a resistance the Eternals won’t laugh themselves to death over.”_

“We’ll figure out something.” She shrugged. “I’ll talk to Theron.”

_“Good luck with that. Revel out.”_

Lana broke the link, and sank back down into her chair, slumping forward and burying her face in her hands. She stayed that way for minutes before shaking herself out of it, and bringing back up the data feeds which she resumed staring at, occasionally making notes on tablets with slightly-tremoring hands.

Daniel heard the door above hiss and the sound of running feet coming closer, although from the lighter sounds, it wasn’t an adult running, but a child.

Correction, _children_.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw a young boy rush into the room. He ran to Lana and tugged on her robes. “Mama, Nixi’s not sharing!”

Daniel arched a brow and glanced at the door the boy entered through, noticing a young girl hiding behind the doorframe and peeking around the corner – which was almost humorous given the blindfold she wore.

“Kieran, I’m in the middle of something. Speak to Ashara.”

“But, mama, she always takes her side.”

“That’s because _I_ listen,” the girl chimed, earning a stuck-out tongue from the boy.

Lana pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed her face while sighing in exasperation. “Nox, how could you leave alone with these two?” she muttered under her breath, “Alright… tell me what happened.”

Daniel listened as the boy explained in _excruciating_ detail every single provocation he had suffered. It was a rambling and incoherent mess which left both Lana and Daniel massaging their temples. He gave silent thanks that he and Lara couldn’t have children together.

“She’s _always_ like this,” the boy pouted after a minutes-long diatribe, “It’s unfair! She can get away with whatever she wants!”

“Nuh- _uh_!”

“Yeah- _huh_!”

“Nuh- _uh_!”

“Yeah- _huh_!”

“This is why you’re not mama’s favorite!”

“See!” The boy pointed. “She’s being mean to me! Tell her to stop being unfair!”

“Kieran. Please,” Lana said sharply, holding her hand up to stop the boy’s rambling, “Just tell me what she did that’s wrong.”

“Nixi has a bag of popplers and she won’t share! It’s not fair!”

“You wouldn’t share your candy with me!” the girl countered.

“That’s because you’re gross!”

“Stupid-head!”

“Smelly butt!”

“Asshole!” the girl roared.

“Nixi! That is _not_ how we talk to each other,” Lana admonished the girl, “Where did you even learn that word?”

“N… nowhere…”

“It was Andronikos, wasn’t it?”

The girl didn’t answer, becoming very sheepish and twisting her foot into the ground anxiously under the Sith Lord’s withering gaze.

“…Damn that pirate,” Lana hissed under her breath, “Listen, can you two _please_ work this out and move on to something more constructive?”

“I would suggest meditation,” said an orange-skinned togruta leaning against the doorframe, “Since that’s what you two are _supposed_ to be doing right now.”

Daniel hadn’t noticed her, the child understandably holding everyone’s attention hostage. Now that she had announced herself, the reaction was immediate.

“Run!” yelled Kieran as he and the girl rushed to the other door.

They only made it a few meters before Lana snatched them with the Force. Levitating the unruly pair slowly back to the center of the room. “Kieran Surana Beniko. Onixa Ishal Revel. You two were skipping lessons again?”

“But, mama… meditation is _booooring_.”

The girl remained silent, but enthusiastically nodded her agreement.

“Proper meditation is a vital skil—” Lana’s came short as the console beeped. Her demeanor shifted back to utter seriousness. “Ashara, would you kindly take these two back to where they belong?”

“Happily, Lord Beniko. Come, children, if we can get through all of today’s lessons before sunset, I won’t have to give you detention for skipping,” she said merrily, though the response of the children was decidedly less enthused.

The door slid shut behind them and Lana triggered the call to accept – all the encryption and anti-spyware tech humming along as she did. The hologram resolved into a human man with pale skin and brown hair spiked upwards; several visible implants in his face. He was in civilian clothing, a red jacket stood out as the most visible, with a pistol strapped to his hip. Daniel assumed he was a smuggler.

_“Everything all right on your end, Lana? Usually you answer before the first ring is complete.”_

“My apologies, Theron. The children were fighting again. I fear I may lash out if it keeps up.”

 _“We’re all under stress, Lana, you just have to take a break every now and then for a sanity check,”_ he said before looking her up-and-down, _“Judging by those bags under your eyes, I’d wager you’re overdue for yours.”_

“I appreciate your concern, Theron, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

_“Uh-huh. And the shaky hands?”_

Lana clenched her fists and sucked in an angry breath. “I _said_ I can handle it.”

 _“Fine, fine. You won’t listen to me either way. Just know that I’ve noticed, and others_ will _notice, and those kids_ definitely _noticed.”_

“Yes… I know, but… what can I do? What can any of us do? Give up? Live beneath the Eternals as if we are nothing more than slaves?”

 _“I never said ‘give up.’ Hell, I’m in this fight to the bitter end,”_ he said with a consoling voice, _“but I try to do so when well-rested and well-fed. If the Eternals have proven anything, it’s that only you at your best can defeat them.”_

Lana stared at him for a time before sighing and nodding her head.

_“When you’re done on this call, go eat something, take a shower, and go to bed. Turn off all your comms except mine. Then only an emergency will wake you.”_

“That or the children,” she laughed, though it was muted, “Alright, Theron, you win. But before you tell me… whatever you wanted to… I got a call from Revel.”

 _“Let me guess,”_ he said, _“Jace still isn’t playing ball.”_

“No,” Lana sighed, “He wasn’t really happy.”

 _“Can’t blame him.”_ Theron rubbed his forehead. _“I thought I’d gotten it through his thick skull what needed to happen.”_

“Apparently not.” Lana glanced to the side. “You don’t have _anything_ we could do to get him on board? Even something minor would be a start.”

 _“You seen his psyche profile?”_ Theron asked incredulously, _“Hardline Republic supporter, and it’s only gotten worse since Coruscant fell. Remember, he tried to have_ **me** _prosecuted after the Revan debacle! We’re honestly more likely to make headway if he suffered a tragic accident.”_

Lana scowled. “That won’t solve anything.”

 _“I know, I know.”_ He lifted a placating hand. _“But it’s getting more and more tempting.”_

“No argument.” She frowned. “Did you call because you had something, or just checking up?”

 _“Naw, much as I enjoy our little chats, this wasn’t a pleasure call.”_ Theron’s back straightened. _“I was contacted by someone. Called himself the ‘Guardian,’ whatever that means. Couldn’t get an exact fix on his location, though it seems to be Outer Rim, somewhere near Mandalorian Space.”_

She stiffened. “Are the Mandos offering assistance?”

_“No, it looks like the Mandalores are still duking it out for supremacy. Doubt we’ll get anyone other than Shae to join up. Anyway, this guy contacted me and said he had ‘vital’ intel, but that it was for your ears only.”_

“He knows me?”

_“Couldn’t say. I would assume yes, you’re not exactly well-known outside our circles. You didn’t happen to make any suspicious acquaintances back when you were advising Imperial Intelligence, did you?”_

“Outside of you?”

_“I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ ”_

“Not to my knowledge. Is he there with you?”

_“He’s on the other line. Let me patch you through.”_

Theron disappeared from the holoprojector and a second later was replaced with an elderly man in long flowing robes. To Daniel, he looked like a Jedi, though he saw no lightsaber.

_“Lana Beniko, I thank you for accepting my call.”_

“Who is this? How do you know my name?”

_“I am but a simple Guardian, watching from afar as the galaxy roils with strife and pain. Ultimately though, who I am is not relevant… what I have to say is.”_

“Then speak, I have no time for games.”

_“It concerns someone of great importance. You believe she is dead, but this is not so.”_

Lana froze, the color draining from her already pale skin. Her breath caught in her throat as she dared to hope. “She’s… alive?”

 _“She is Vaylin’s prisoner. Where she locked her away, I do not know,”_ the old man said with a dismissive wave of his hand, _“but if the galaxy is to survive and heal, Vaylin must be brought low… and Darth Nox is the only one strong enough to do so.”_

“How… how do you know this?”

_“That is not important, suffice to say that it is genuine.”_

“I… I must verify this first.”

 _“Yes, you should. Trust no one and nothing,”_ he said before giving a soft chuckle, _“That shouldn’t be too difficult for a ‘Lord of the Sith.’ ”_

“If what you’ve told me is true… you have my thanks.”

 _“May the Force guide you, Lana Beniko,”_ the old man said as he cut the transmission.

The figure disappeared and Lana was left to stare at it. She didn’t move a muscle, not even as Theron returned to his place on the projector.

_“Sounds like that nap just got postponed.”_

“Eavesdropping, Theron?”

_“I’m the one who set up the line. You really think I wasn’t going to listen in? You want me to gather the others?”_

“Not yet. We need to… to… ugh.” Lana lurched forward, bracing herself on her thighs.

_“Lana! Lana, are you okay?”_

Her breathing was heavy, almost clipped and stuttering. When she looked up, Daniel saw why. Streams of joyous tears flowed freely from her eyes and curved around her smiling lips. “I’ve never been better.”

The man smiled as well, but just then, Daniel’s vision became muddled and blurry. And he was once more traveling the stream of the Force.

* * *

Daniel found himself in a completely different place.

It appeared to be a massive warehouse that extended far into the air to where he could only just make out the ceiling. Machinery hissed and beeping sounded in the background. Steam – or smoke – rose from vents along the ground. Thick black pillars were evenly spaced throughout the warehouse that supported the structure itself as well as the many catwalks above, each one fitted with security cameras and auto-turrets scanning every open space.

Daniel was initially unsure what the purpose of the room was, until he walked his semi-translucent form over to one of the racks that lined the warehouse and were stacked up, level by level as far as he could see. Carbonite blocks. Preservation-tuned blocks specifically, usually how bounty hunters transported marks they were ordered to take alive.

There were hundreds of them. Professionally made ones too, where the identity of the occupant wasn’t known and the block itself was completely solid. Cheap carbon freezing tended to just produce a thin covering which would capture the expression of a target just as they were being frozen, usually in discomfort or pain.

The hutts preferred this type of freezing, both because they were cheap, but largely to display their enemies as trophies; despite the fact that it was easy to damage the sealing of the carbonite block and it could become destabilized if the temperature wasn’t properly controlled. 

It seemed the Eternal Empire didn’t feel the need to show off their many captives.

The warehouse wasn’t unoccupied either. Golden-armored Knights of Zakuul – the armor of which he actually recognized from archeological artifacts recovered – with unlit saber-pikes stood at the ends of entrances or patrolled in groups of three. But they were a minority, as there were far more humanoid figures who he initially believed were soldiers, but a closer inspection revealed they were droids.

White-armored and possessing some degree of propulsion capabilities, they also held blaster rifles, with wrist-mounted rockets and blasters built into some of them. More also possessed grappling hooks and other specialized equipment. It was certainly a sophisticated droid force, which, to his moderately trained eye, he felt would equal any equivalent made today.

The quiet and calm did give him a brief moment to reflect on what he’d seen.

There were so many _questions_. It appeared that his understanding – and others it seemed – of what had happened was woefully incomplete and inaccurate. He felt that Valkorian wasn’t completely gone… but he clearly couldn’t have affected events significantly, even from beyond the grave – in theory at least. So, when Nox had eventually escaped and waged war against the Eternal Empire… it wasn’t against Valkorian, it must have been against Vaylin.

This went a long way to explaining how Nox had won, though he still was confused as to how Valkorian had been killed so easily. Not to mention it seemed like Valkorian was far from the only one of… well, whatever he was, even within the Eternal Empire. But what he’d seen didn’t mesh well with the display he had seen on Korriban.

There had to be something he was missing.

Then there was Lana, and how it seemed the fortunes of the resistance had been, at best, waning before receiving a convenient message: Nox was alive. The ‘Guardian’ man… Daniel was suspicious of those who didn’t even bother to hide their enigmatic intentions. Shartan might approve of the theatrics, but typically, when information was given in that manner, it was usually not for the reasons said.

Then again, the man had not given her much.

It was all very strange.

Daniel appraised the warehouse, idly wondering where he was now. A prisoner lockup most likely, and given the context, he assumed Nox was stored somewhere here, which meant that something was likely going to happen. He waited minutes more, taking the time to make some notes on the patrol patterns, more details on the droids and Knights, and to see if there were any documents or tablets lying around that he could read.

Nothing, unfortunately. Not surprising.

All of the droids suddenly stopped moving, freezing briefly before seeming to recover. The lights on the automated turrets turned red and began whirring. Daniel wondered if it was a glitch… before they all began firing on the Knights as one. Blue and red plasma turned the tranquil environment into a pitched battlefield as the Knights were almost completely caught off-guard, some of them mowed down in the initial barrage before the rest leapt into action.

The Knights were fast and powerful; blue-bladed saber-pikes moved faster than the eye could see, seeming to encase some of the Knights in a cocoon of blue. The Force fluctuated and wavered as it was called upon by the Knights to protect themselves, something he could sense even through the vision. Droids were crushed, dismembered, and ripped apart, with their pieces turned into projectiles that were flung toward the ones still remaining.

The droids themselves were not mindless either. They were smart enough to understand what they were fighting and quickly moved to reposition themselves and outflank the Knights, their jetpacks used to great effect as the Knights were fired upon from every angle. Metal and bodies were scattered everywhere, and a number of the carbonite blocks were flashing red or broken from the barrage of shrapnel and plasma, but Daniel could see the battle would end soon.

Even as one of the Knights dismembered a half-dozen droids within seconds and crushed several turrets, more droids landed behind him and fired, the sheer number of which was impossible to resist, and he fell. Another female Knight telekinetically maintained a shield of debris around her which she occasionally directed outwards, though when the droids fired rockets and grenades, half her body was vaporized, and the hail of plasma silenced her forever.

There were simply too few Knights. One by one they succumbed, though not before extracting a heavy toll from the droids. Smoke, fire, and shrapnel filled much of the room from the burning and melting wreckage, obfuscating Daniel’s vision. The last couple Knights were fighting with their backs to the entrance, which suddenly opened behind them with a hiss, and the presumed perpetrators of the attack entered.

A barrage of purple lightning followed by a series of red lightsaber strikes shocked, disemboweled, and dismembered one of the guards, and a thick, clawed hand extended from the smoke, lifting the remaining survivor into the air. The creature that Daniel now knew was a dashade emerged fully from the smoke, red beady eyes glowing malevolently. 

Unlike the one on Dromund Kaas, this one had pale skin, but was just as heavily armored. The creature ripped the golden helmet off the screaming Knight, a woman, and hooked several talons into her mouth and yanked downward, her jaw and part of her neck ripped off in a bloody cascade.

Daniel grimaced as the dashade dug its talons deep into the flesh of the Knight, and began eating the woman alive, her flesh starting to gray, while purple flickers from the dashade’s form seemed to leech her life away. He’d performed some brief research after his encounter on Dromund Kaas, and while he had read that the dashade supposedly fed on Force-users, he hadn’t expected it to be so… _literal_.

It wasn’t just the dashade who had entered. Through the smoke walked a number of dark-armored and robed figures with ignited red lightsabers. At the front was a battle-armored Lana Beniko, with what seemed to be at least two dozen Sith behind her, who immediately fanned out at her gesture. The droids resumed their patrol, seemingly back to normal now that the threats were dealt with.

Lana clicked her earpiece, speaking in a clipped Imperial accent, “Theron, we’re inside. Worked like a charm.”

She stood still and nodded, presumably in response to whatever Theron said. At her side was a _very_ old astromech, a model Daniel was certain was in a museum now, which beeped expectantly.

Lana glanced down to the droid. “Good idea, T7, we’ll probably narrow it down faster with direct access. Theron, how much time do we have?”

The T7 droid made its way over to a nearby terminal and plugged in while the woman paced. “Good, more than enough time. Make sure Revel has the engines hot. Even if you’re delaying the alarm, they’re not going to be fooled forever.”

“Lord Beniko! We found her!” a Sith called in the distance.

“We found her,” Lana relayed curtly, “I’ll keep in contact.”

She broke into a brisk run toward the Sith who waited at one of the carbonite blocks, followed closely by Daniel who positioned himself clearly to see what happened.

“Are you certain this is it?” she demanded.

“Yes, milord. Your droid confirmed it,” the Sith stated, face hidden by a gray helmet, motioning to the panel, “The Eternals are very thorough. ‘Darth Nox Kallig.’ Sealing date is just over five years ago. The identifying hash is the exact same as what was provided. It’s her, no question.”

“Don’t waste time,” she said as a number of other Sith came over, “Get her out of there!”

The dashade had finished eating and lumbered over to the group, blood splattered on its armor, teeth red and with some chunks of gray flesh between them, now carrying a massive Sith-made blade in one hand similar to the one on Dromund Kaas.

“Enjoy your meal, Khem?” Lana asked dryly, glancing briefly toward it.

The dashade answered in a language and tone that was impossible to determine, as Daniel didn’t understand. Whatever the creature said seemed to amuse Lana, though her focus returned to the carbonite block which was now in the process of defrosting. A few minutes, later the form of Nox became visible and the Sith soon tumbled out, caught by Lana and several other Sith.

Nox was soaking wet, and still covered in the bruises and cuts she’d had when Valkorian was killed. She coughed violently as tremors wracked her body. Common effects of carbonite sickness, Daniel remembered.

“Easy, easy, deep breaths,” Lana said gently, her and a nearby Sith helping set Nox on the ground while she slowly regained consciousness, “Here, drink.”

She pulled out a thermos that had what _looked_ like lightning-bolt markings on the sides. Ah, right, likely an electrolyte-infused beverage typically given to the extremely dehydrated, particularly those who had just come out of carbonite. It would help counter the carbonite sickness, but any type of flavored beverage would also be _immensely bitter_ at first – which would exacerbate Nox’s inevitable migraine.

“Lana…” she finally said, coughing and haphazardly reached toward her face with a hand, “You came…”

Lana smiled, gripping the hand in her own tenderly, and pulled her into a tight, but awkward hug. “Of course I did. All of us came.”

Both women separated and Lana pushed the thermos to her. “Now drink – I’m serious. You need it.”

Nox took the thermos and took a sip, and her face immediately contorted in disgust. “Gah! Why didn’t you just bring water? Give me that!”

“No, Nox,” Lana insisted with an odd vigor, pushing the thermos back to her, “You _need_ electrolytes right now.”

Nox scowled, but reluctantly complied, drinking as she looked up to where the dashade was standing. “Even you, Khem?” It wasn’t said in a mocking or sarcastic tone, instead one that was surprised but grateful. The dashade knelt on one knee, and said something that made Nox nod. “Thank you. Are the others…?”

“Here or part of the resistance,” Lana finished with a violent nod, “I’ll give more details when we’re safer, but you’ve been imprisoned for five years. The Empire and Republic are shackled by Vaylin’s puppets, and the Jedi and Sith are effectively extinct. I’ve gathered what remains of the Sith; Ashara did the same with the Jedi.”

“Nixi? Kieran?”

“Alive, growing, and beautiful. Nixi looks more like you the older she gets.”

“Good, good…” That seemed to relieve Nox. “Thank you, Lana.”

Lana smiled, her eyes turning slightly moist. “They’re going to be so happy to see you…” 

“I hope so.” Nox smiled, though it quickly eroded to a scowl as she realized a less-happy truth as she tried to rise, and was assisted by Lana. “Vaylin… She rules the Eternal Empire?”

“Yes,” Lana answered, “Arcann killed Valkorian, and was executed by the Imperial Honor Guard for treason. You might know if that’s true or not.”

“Some of it is,” Nox said hoarsely, taking a step forward, stumbling.

Lana pulled something from a pouch on her waist, and pressed it to Nox’s hand. Daniel saw it was a miraluka blindfold, likely a replica of the one she’d worn before.

“I thought you’d need this,” Lana said, “You’re lucky you had spares.”

“Yes…” Nox looked at the blindfold in a melancholy tone. “One you held onto.”

Lana gave a wan smile. “One of the few things I had left of you. Now it’s back where it belongs.”

“Thank you, Lana,” Nox said quietly, putting on the blindfold, “You said ‘ _resistance_ ’?”

“The start of one,” Lana confirmed, pulling out an injector, “This will help you recover faster. Hold still.”

Nox complied as Lana injected her with a clear fluid.

“Theron and I have been putting together pieces of a resistance ever since the Republic and Empire fell,” Lana continued, “but anyone who could possibly unite what’s left is dead. The Dark Council, the Jedi Council, the Chancellor, the Emperor… anyone who could bring everyone together is dead or gone. You’re our only hope to command something like this; our only hope kill Vaylin and destroy the Eternal Empire.”

“Yes.” Nox’s lips curled up, before breaking into a short coughing fit before recovering, quickly accepting her role, it seemed. “Vaylin sparing me is a choice she’ll regret deeply. Where are we? I presume we have limited time?”

“Arthan,” Lana said, “The world the Eternal Empire stores their prisoners. Secret, which was how we got here at all. Largely automated defenses.”

Nox looked around, sensing the many who were encased in carbonite. “All of these people are prisoners?”

“Presumably.”

“Well then.” Nox directed her blind eyes at the surrounding Sith expectantly. “Do not waste time! Get them out!”

“Ah…” A nervous Sith lifted a hand. “Milord, we don’t have enough room to evacuate _everyone_. There are thousands here. The Eternals will be coming for us soon.”

Even with the blindfold, Daniel could imagine the eyes of Nox boring into the man who looked away seconds later. “I am not interested in excuses. Tell me what we would have to do to accomplish this.”

“Take control of the prison tower, milord,” he said, “but it is protected by an Exarch.”

“And that matters why?”

“Exarchs are… empty vessels that have had a spirit bound to them,” Lana explained quickly, “They are very powerful and loyal to the Eternals.”

Nox smiled, a cunning face of a strategist with a plan. “Are they now? Well then, our path is clear. If we are to pose a _threat_ , then we must make a statement the new Empress cannot ignore. Free the prisoners and slaughter any Eternals you find. I, along with any who follow me, will kill the Exarch.”

“Are your… spirits, are they back?” Lana asked hesitantly.

“Mm.” Nox pursed her lips. “Their power has returned, but they are silent. It will be sufficient for now. Valkorian… he did something. I will need to determine what it is later… something has changed.” She shook her head. “But it does not change what we will do now.”

“Then you’ll need this.” Lana reached to the back of her belt and unhooked a curved lightsaber hilt Daniel remembered Nox having on Dromund Kaas. “It took a while to recover, but…”

“Thank you, Lana,” she said, taking the lightsaber almost reverently and igniting it. A crimson blade sprang forth and hummed. The Force wavered around Nox, as she asserted herself, growing in intensity as the pain, fury, and wrath of what she endured bubbled forward. “I’ve been looking forward to this…”

Lana briefly turned away as Nox gathered several Sith and her dashade, while the others began unthawing other carbonite blocks. The blonde-haired Sith tapped her earpiece. “Theron, change of plans. Tell Ashara to deploy.”

There was a moment as Theron presumably answered, loud enough that Daniel could hear the incredulous tone.

“Why?” Lara smirked. “Nox decided this is the first planet we’re taking from Vaylin.”

Just as quickly as it began, the scene faded and Daniel returned to the currents of the Force.

* * *

Now he found himself in what seemed to be a cave – converted into a makeshift headquarters. Steel grates covered the uneven stone, beams creating a stable platform with simple stairs when necessary. Simple bright lights hung from jury-rigged cords slung over overhead beams.

A large holotable was in the middle of the platform – an old and somewhat dilapidated one, with bare cables exposed and lying on the ground where people could easily trip. That said, Daniel was fairly certain that keeping this place up to regulation was not a priority. Makeshift armories and computer consoles were strewn along the rock walls, where they could fit, though there was no one occupying them at the moment.

Instead, the focus was around the holotable where Nox stood, along with a number of other people, some he recognized, some he could make guesses at, but didn’t know for sure. Nox looked healthier, now dry and with her pale skin a healthy shade, standing firm once more as a proud Sith. Her clothes had been cleaned, and her lightsaber hung on her belt.

Lana was by her side, along with the T7 droid. To her side and near the corner of the holotable was Theron, whose implants were more noticeable in-person, and skin more weathered. One eye was a full cybernetic replacement, as was at least one hand from what he’d seen. From what Daniel could recognize from the implants, they were definitely hacker-focused. If he’d voluntarily augmented himself or not was an open question.

Opposite the man was a Mandalorian woman with blazing red hair and blue and silver armor. Her gear was definitely older, but she was very much distinctly Mandalorian. She was aged, but Daniel was very aware that age didn’t necessarily make a Mandalorian less dangerous. To his knowledge, the Mandalorians had been isolated and mostly disunited for thousands of years – only in the past few centuries had the Mandalorian Union even been formed.

Had they assisted Nox?

Many questions he was looking forward to having answered.

At the end of the holotable – opposite Nox – was an orange-skinned togruta woman with white stripes and markings – Ashara he remembered. Twin lightsabers hung at her waist, and the robes she wore were brown; closer to Jedi than Sith. He’d idly noticed the first time she appeared, but now it struck him just how _young_ she really was. Nonetheless, she stood tall and with her hands clasped behind her back. Flanking her were two human men, one he remembered as Revel and the other in a gray Imperial uniform.

While Revel was strong, tall, and hardened, comparatively, the Imperial beside him was almost the exact opposite. Small, frail, wide-eyed, and with an excited energy about him. He was perfectly groomed and polished, going so far as to stand at attention, salute and all, before Nox waved him to be at ease.

“This is it.” Lana waved a hand to indicate the group. “The resistance to the Eternal Throne.”

Nox gave an approving nod. “I’m impressed you managed to get them to work together, though if it was an effective resistance, you likely wouldn’t need me.”

“Efficiency has nothing to do with it, Nox, it’s only about trust and scale,” the hardened, tattooed Revel said bluntly, “We served with you and all that. We all have our skills, skills we’ve used to have something ready, but we’re not delusional – we’re only a fraction of what we need to kill the Eternals. None of us are like you. We don’t have the manpower, resources, or frankly, _authority_ to convince anyone we can pull off a war against the Eternals, much less get them working together. The only one we’ve managed to talk into supporting a united offensive is Shae – and good luck getting anyone else on board.”

“I recognize you.” Nox appraised the Mandalorian. “Shae of Clan Vizsla, correct?”

“Surprised you knew that,” the woman confirmed in a drawl, blunt voice. She waved a hand idly. “Though your friend is right. My clan is fully committed to bringing down the Throne, as are our allies, but you’re not gonna get the major clans to help you. Clan Ordo is calling the shots these days, and no one is brave enough to defy Mand’alor.”

Theron perked up. “Wait, there’s only one? Our reports show half a dozen _at least_.”

Shae grunted. “It’s… complicated. The ‘true’ Mand’alor is Jondum’Panlie of Clan Ordo. He controls core Mando’Tra and the founding clans: Ordo, Skirata, Fett, Vevut, Beviin, and Bralor. Once you leave the core though…” She waved a hand vaguely. “Then loyalties get fuzzy. We’re going through something of a warring Mand’alors period right now.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Theron commented with a nod, “And you are one of these ‘warring Mandalores’?”

“I was,” Shae confirmed, “but Panlie offered a special dispensation for us helping you. He declared me ‘Ne’tra-kal.’ Basically his ‘champion.’ They support us here and there, but mostly they legitimize my band. It makes it easier to recruit.”

“Why does he not support us directly?” Nox asked.

Shae seemed to know her answer wasn’t going to be a good one, but answered regardless, “Again, complicated. I’m not certain of the details, but he has another title, ‘Holder of the Heart of the Guardian.’ ”

Theron, Lana, _and_ Daniel subtly reacted to the word ‘ _Guardian_ ,’ with Lana and Theron exchanging a look.

Daniel knew what Shae was referring to, of course. But knowing that, and what he had seen, had the enigmatic Guardian been the one to help Lana?

“It’s some Jedi thing,” Shae continued, oblivious, “Apparently the Guardian is meant to protect the Jedi and Republic against extinction. The Panlies can trace back to Darth Revan himself.”

Daniel saw a flash of tension on Nox’s face at the mention of Revan. But it relaxed into cold indifference almost instantly.

“Well, he’s doing a bang-up job,” Andronikos snarked.

“This ‘Guardian’… what does he look like?” Lana asked, sparing a glance to Theron.

“Eh, he’s old. Dresses like a Jedi,” Shae said as she pulled out her holocom and scrolled through the directory. She pressed a name and a hologram appeared of an old man in Jedi robes.

Theron sucked in a quick breath past his teeth. “It’s him.”

“Who?” Nox asked.

Lana shook her head as she turned away from the hologram. “We were contacted a year or so ago by this man. He told us you were alive. He said you were Vaylin’s prisoner.”

Theron looked at Nox. “He said you were the only one who could lead the resistance. So, we started looking.”

“Interesting,” she said, raising an eyebrow, “Perhaps this Mandalore isn’t as useless as he seems. What can you tell me about this other title of his? ‘Holder of the… Heart of the Guardian,’ was it?”

“Yeah. Like I said, it’s a Jedi thing.” Shae looked to Ashara. “Maybe your togruta can fill in the details.”

Said togruta furrowed her brow in thought. “I have heard of the Heart of the Guardian… though not as a title. It’s a lightsaber crystal, spoken of in legend. I don’t know much else though. But then, I’m only the de facto Grand Master. Everything I _should_ know is either lost or hidden – or anyone who knows is dead.”

Nox looked to the small Imperial man, who had raised a hand. “If you will permit me, milord, I _may_ know something about this particular topic.”

She nodded. “Speak, Talos.”

“Now, I cannot speak for the title,” Talos said, “but the Heart of the Guardian is actually well-documented in older texts. Long before it was used against Malak by Revan – and now claimed by this ‘Guardian’ – it was wielded by a figure who has only been identified as ‘Lasira,’ during the days of the Je’daii in the Force Wars.”

Daniel leaned forward, hanging on what was said next.

“Supposedly, it was said that Lasira wielded a blade of the Force itself,” the eager Imperial recounted, “A bronze blade that drained the world of color and life. Supposedly, the one who held the Heart of the Guardian became an avatar for the Force itself, and from the texts, she was certainly looked upon with fear by the separatists at the time.

“Now,” he was quick to clarify, “It is important to distinguish between legend and reality. What I can say with confidence is that the Heart of the Guardian was one of the most attuned crystals to the Force, and could very well augment the user to an extent – _and_ that the Heart of the Guardian is very, very old. Older than the Jedi, older than the Sith, and certainly older than the Mandalorians.”

He appraised Shae with his eyes gleaming. “ _Fascinating_ how it has seemingly been found by the Mandalorians.”

“Huh,” was all Shae said blankly, “Can’t confirm any of that, only Clan Ordo knows anything about it – though I saw him use the lightsaber once. It’s definitely more of a bronze than an orange.” She shrugged. “I will say this though, never in our history has the Mand’alor also been the Guardian. Jondum had to take over when his son, the previous Mand’alor, was killed by Artus Lok. No one else would do.”

“And he sent you.”

“No. I was already here. I went to Planet Ordo and petitioned him directly. He refused to wage war with us, but he did offer support. Hence my title.” Shae tapped her helmet idly and scowled. “All the Mando’ade you’ve seen? We’re effectively exiles to Mand’alor. Renegades and the dishonorable. But frankly, his help would be invaluable if you could get it.” She fiddled with her bracer. “Realistically, you’re not going to get it though, so I’ve been gathering all the loners and pseudo-clans into a complete fighting force. We won’t match the numbers of the major clans, but we’ll do our best.”

“Theron and I have been the main point of contact for years now,” Lana said, gesturing to Theron, “This is the first time all of us have been in one place. We’ve kept operations under the radar and more focused on recruiting and building redundancy. Now that you’re here, we can begin _actual_ wartime operations.”

“Give me an overview,” Nox demanded, crossing her arms, “I need to know what I have. Shae covers the Mandalorians, or at least those outside their territory. Everyone else?”

“I’m in charge of what Sith are left,” Lana explained with a shrug, “There aren’t many, but I’m ensuring those that lived find their way to us. Odessan is out of the way, strong in the Force, and a place where large gatherings of Force-users won’t be discovered. I’m also effectively the point of contact for Imperial survivors who don’t work for the puppet Empire now.”

“And I’m doing what I always do,” Theron added, leaning on the holotable, “Slicing, observing, and running what’s left of the SIS. Revan screwed us badly, but it may have been a blessing in disguise since it forced a lot of the SIS underground, and they’re coming back up now. Not quite large enough of an intelligence network for something like this, but it’s a start. And for better or worse, I’m the main point of contact between us and what’s left of the Republic loyalists.”

Nox glanced to Lana, her face scrunched in confusion. “What of Imperial Intelligence?”

Lana pursed her lips. “We’ll get to that.”

Ashara lifted a hand. “I’ve mirrored what Lord Beniko has accomplished. As the Jedi are effectively gone… well, I’ve been gathering the survivors. I don’t have many, but all of the Council is dead along with most of the Masters. Until they say otherwise, I’m in charge of what is left of the Jedi.”

“Are you now?” Nox seemed amused, a hint of a satisfied smile on her face. “How quickly platitudes are abandoned when one looks extinction in the face.”

“Please, the Sith fared no better than we did. This is beyond philosophy or light and dark,” the togruta sighed, “The Eternals must be destroyed. We are all in agreement.”

“A start, Ashara,” Nox said approvingly, “They’ll see what they’ll have to do soon enough.” She looked to the pirate, a noticeable pause before she spoke, an odd tone in her voice, “Andronikos Revel. Gone back to pirating?”

“Indeed, my Lord, and it has been quite profitable indeed,” he said in a rough voice, though flashed a thin smile, “Done more fighting with the Eternals than anyone here, I wager, though mostly kept to robbing the puppet governments, while sometimes playing diplomat for Lana. Directly striking the Eternals has been a lot more risky. Trust me when I say the criminals _hate_ Zakuul. Mostly because the Eternals barely have crime at all, but that’s beside the point.”

Nox frowned. “You aren’t using _my_ ship, are you?”

Revel coughed. “…Possibly.”

Nox sighed, before turning her attention to the man next to him. “Talos. I assume you are in charge of the digs I saw in my way in?”

“Indeed, milord,” he said in a clipped, but excited manner, “There is a _fascinating_ amount of Jedi and Sith lore hidden on this planet.” He briefly coughed into a fist. “I will summarize my duties as best as possible. The Eternal Empire is something which we had no idea even existed – highly irregular, I must say – but they are beyond us technologically and seemingly in the ways of the Force.”

He made a sweeping gesture. “The Eternal Empire cannot be defeated conventionally – if you have not come to this conclusion, you soon will.” He lifted a finger. “But _fortunately_ , we have options. I am currently leading a number of projects, not just on this world, but many others, specifically prioritizing precursor technology – something you are familiar with. Rakatan and gree, specifically. In a lesser respect, I manage our technological and scientific projects – but I largely delegate that to Doctors Oggurobb and Lokin.”

“That hutt is here?” Nox demanded, stiffening in anger, “He is part of the Cartels!”

“And we’re going to also need their tacit support,” Theron pointed out in a tone that said he knew Nox wasn’t going to approve, “Not to mention Oggurobb is a genius in his own right. We’re doing this smartly, Nox, we keep him at arm’s length. There’s a reason he’s not with us now.”

“I assume this ‘keep at arm’s length’ applies to the Eternal defectors I noticed outside?” Nox asked, nodding back to the entrance.

“Yeah.” Theron nodded. “We have a small number of them, led by a former Zakuulian soldier. Koth Vortena. You probably saw him. Dark-skinned, goggles, pulled back dreadlocks.”

Nox directed her blindfolded eyes to Theron for a few long seconds, initially seeming to confuse him until his eyes widened and he winced. “Oh… right…”

Ashara suppressed a chuckle, disguising it as a cough, while a smile played on Lana’s face. Shae didn’t bother suppressing her amusement.

“I’m fairly certain I know who you refer to,” Nox said in a _very_ dry voice, “Is he a plant?”

“No, he’s reliable.” Lana shook her head, ending the brief moment of humor. “But he’s… how do I say this? Something of a ‘willfully blind idiot.’ He believes that peace is possible with the Eternals. Very against operations which hurt the ‘ordinary people.’ ” Lana pursed her lips. “He has a reverence for Valkorian. He’s not alone either, Valkorian’s death and their dislike for Vaylin is a primary motivation for defection.”

“Wonderful,” Nox muttered, “Are they truly worth including?”

“We can’t afford to be picky.” Lana shrugged. “We’re keeping him isolated and out of the loop as a precaution, but his people _have_ helped us reverse-engineer Zakuulian technology and systems faster than we could ever do on our own. So for now, he’s an ally.”

Nox raised an eyebrow. “And when he’s not? I intend to burn the Eternal Empire to the ground – and that includes everyone in it, ‘ordinary’ or not.”

“Then we deal with him,” Lana suggested simply, “Or otherwise _ensure_ his loyalty.”

“That will suffice,” Nox hummed, “And this Lokin?”

“Eckard Lokin, Imperial Science Bureau,” Lana answered, “A mad scientist through and through, but also brilliant. Though potentially unreliable.”

“Why?”

Lana and Theron exchanged a look.

“Better to get this over with,” Theron grumbled, before pressing a button on his wristlink.

The door to the room hissed open and a woman in an Imperial uniform strode in. She had fair skin, short, styled black hair, and walked with a calm poise.

Nox inclined her head, her lips pursed, as if the woman was familiar. “Do I know you?”

“Potentially, Lord Nox. I was formerly ‘Keeper’ of Imperial Intelligence,” she answered, clearly a native Imperial from her accent, “Before that, my designation was ‘Watcher Two.’ Before that is irrelevant.”

“I see.” Nox glanced to Lana. “She manages what’s left of Imperial Intelligence?”

“No,” the woman – Keeper – rejected, shaking her head, “I work with the Intelligence remnant, but I’m largely an ambassador to this resistance.”

Nox seemed unhappy at that, furrowing her eyebrows. “I hope not for who I suspect.”

Keeper lifted a holo-communicator, and the image of a familiar chiss appeared. Unlike the vision he’d seen, though lacking a helmet, Cipher Nine was now wearing heavy-duty black armor with heavy blasters slung over the back. His hands were clasped behind his back as he appraised Nox with his glowing eyes.

The miraluka frowned. “You live.”

_“Surprised?”_

“Considering how you went AWOL when the invasion was happening, no. You were always a coward and when your Master fell, you fled.”

 _“Your fantasy is noted.”_ Cipher Nine inclined his head. _“Suffice to say I was engaged in more pressing matters. Matters which are responsible for significant portions of Imperial Intelligence being preserved. Don’t flatter yourself, Nox, of all the things I fear in the galaxy, you and the Sith are not one of them.”_

“And yet, you speak to me through a hologram,” Nox said thinly, “For a man with no fear, why not come yourself?”

 _“Because I don’t need to,”_ he answered flatly, _“Nor do I trust you to not kill me. A lack of fear does not translate to stupidity – and I am not foolish enough to risk myself unnecessarily. As it stands, Keeper will effectively act as my proxy.”_

“I’m curious,” Nox wondered, “What happened to the Minister of Intelligence?”

 _“He unfortunately perished in an ambush,”_ Cipher Nine answered tightly, _“We suspect the Scions were involved since his location was only known to a few.”_

“The Scions, or a mole?”

_“There are no moles, Nox, I have seen to that.”_

“Is that so?” Nox asked skeptically, “I doubt that.”

_“Your belief is irrelevant. You asked me a question and I answered.”_

“Very well. Everyone here is turning over authority to me,” Nox noted dryly, “Yet not you, I presume?”

_“No. I know better than to turn anything over to you.”_

Daniel could feel Nox’s growing irritation.

“Do you think this is a time for _games_ , Cipher?” she demanded, lifting a closed fist. Keeper suddenly gasped and a hand went to her throat, her eyes wide and bulging. “This is not the time for your pride or _selfish_ desire to be the hero. You were little more than Jadus’s attack dog, so please don’t pretend you hold leverage over _us_ , certainly not to _dictate_ what will be done.”

Keeper collapsed to the floor, though the holo-communicator still hovered, and floated to Nox’s own hand which she gripped firmly.

Cipher Nine did not appear disturbed. _“Is she alive?”_

“She’ll be fine.”

 _“Good. I appreciate you proving my point, Nox,”_ Cipher Nine’s tone didn’t change, though his words were sharp as the glowing eyes narrowed to slits, _“I do not answer to you, Nox. I do not need you, but you very much need me. Let me be very clear – if you throw a tantrum against my people again – a number which includes Dr. Lokin – I will bring the wrath of the Eternal Empire down upon you.”_

“No, you wouldn’t.”

_“I do not bluff,_ _milord_ _. Do not make me regret setting you free.”_

Nox looked behind her. “What is he talking about?”

“As I mentioned earlier, Mandalore contacted us and informed us that you were alive and captured,” Lana said, her lips pursed.

 _“Panlie told you? Interesting,”_ Cipher Nine said, stroking his chin, _“His file suggested he wouldn’t get involved unless necessary.”_

“As well-informed as ever, I see,” Nox grumbled.

_“Someone should be.”_

Nox glared at the hologram… or seemed to. Daniel couldn’t tell behind the blindfold.

Lana continued, “We tried tracking you down, but everything led to a dead end. We exhausted every possible option.”

“We reached out to _him_.” Theron grimaced. “And he eventually found the exact location you were held. He also gave us some tools to negate the automated defenses.”

 _“I don’t especially care for you, Nox,”_ Cipher Nine continued as Nox looked back to him, _“but your companions are right that you would be an effective centerpoint for the resistance. It is in all of our interests that the Eternal Throne falls as soon as possible. You can be mad that I or my people are the few who do not answer to you, or we can work together.”_

There were a few seconds of pause.

“Very well,” Nox stated, “Do your part, and we will not have problems. When the Sith once more rule, then we will determine how to place Imperial Intelligence back under the control of the Empire.”

 _“We will cross that bridge when we come to it,”_ Cipher Nine said neutrally, _“Until next time, Nox.”_

The hologram blinked out of existence and Nox crushed the device a second later, her anger palpable. “Insufferable cretin.”

“But a _very dangerous_ cretin,” Lana placated as Nox dropped the pieces of the holocom to the ground with a clatter and rejoined the group, “I’d suggest we not antagonize him. He wasn’t kidding about him not needing us… or so he claims.”

“How did that even happen?” Nox shook her head. “How does he maintain his connections and influence over Intelligence?”

“I suspect it was one of Jadus’s contingencies,” Lana proposed with a sigh, “One I was unfortunately unaware of. He would not risk Imperial Intelligence being controlled by a Sith he did not personally appoint, nor would Cipher Nine. There is little we can do about that now.”

“Right.” Nox looked at the holotable. “I suppose we should determine what comes next.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst idea,” Theron agreed, “We have a whole list of groups to approach, strikes to plan, uprisings to start, and Eternals to kill. Trust me – we’ve had five years to come up with this – it’s going to take a while to get through.”

* * *

Daniel observed for what felt like hours – and in fact it probably _was_ hours. He’d sat on the ground and listened to the highly detailed plans, factions, and ideas the small group of revolutionaries had put together. It reminded him of the stories of the Rebel Alliance; though in comparison, the Galactic Empire seemed minor compared to the power the Eternal Empire held.

Incredible how this story had become lost to history. He was memorizing all he could, even if it wouldn’t be perfect. Regardless, even if his implants didn’t work as well in visions, he knew that this was not something he would easily forget – and perhaps flow-walking again in the future could be used to chronicle these stories. The historical applications of the power were only now abundantly clear to him.

Although for now, it served a more _direct_ purpose.

The meeting came to a close, and all of them made a mutual decision to resume the next morning. They began trickling out, with Nox saying she’d speak with them individually later. Lana looked at her expectantly, but Nox made it clear with her expression that she wanted to be left alone.

Lana seemed to accept that, and the two women exchanged some words Daniel couldn’t make out. Lana gave Nox a quick kiss and left the room shortly after, leaving the Sith Lord alone.

Suspecting something would happen, Daniel also stood and maneuvered around, though kept his distance. By now he knew that Nox had some skill with spirits, and there might be a possibility that she sensed something was off. If so… it would complicate things. The more he embarked on this journey, the more he realized how little they still knew about how the Force, visions, and time intertwined and worked together.

Nox seemed distracted, her face tight as she began pacing. The air trembled and a low thrum sounded; a sound of agitation. Flecks of dirt and dust floated into the air; gravity suspended as Nox unwittingly bent the Force around her. It wasn’t an unheard-of effect; Daniel knew that it was often a side-effect of when Palavola meditated, though she was always calm… and likely had greater control over herself than Nox.

“Such a _fascinating_ conversation to witness.”

Nox gave a short yelp and spun around, one hand drawn back and engulfed in lightning, ready to throw at the source. Purple fire blazed from under her blindfold and the air turned electric. Daniel saw the source, and was somehow not as surprised as he felt he should have been. Valkorian stood before her; his form possessing a sparkling quality, meaning he was a spirit, but someone who was very much alive.

“ _You_!” Nox roared, the lightning flashing brighter, “What did you _do_ to me!”

Valkorian seemed amused at the sight of the irate woman. “If you _must_ vent your rage, do so and get it over with. I do not wish to converse with an overly emotional child.”

“I am quite _tired_ of learning that those I hate still live,” Nox growled, though gradually allowed her power to fade and the atmosphere of the room returned to normal, “How are you _still_ alive?”

“Come now,” he chided, clasping his hands behind his back, “Do you think I would have allowed Arcann to strike me down if _I_ did not _wish_ it? And you of all people should know that the demise of our mortal shells has little bearing on what we define as ‘ _life_.’ ”

“Yes, I am quite aware,” Nox said, appraising the spirit warily, though more calmly than before, “Enough to know that you should not be here. You are no Jedi. You are no Sith. You should be _gone_. You are an abomination within the Force.”

“And yet I stand before you. _Alive_.” Valkorian waved a hand dismissively. “You are hardly one to judge, considering the unnatural techniques and technologies you sought and used to prevent the utter collapse of your fragile mortal mind.”

Nox took a breath, returned to a normal state as she crossed her arms. “You let yourself die. Why?”

“Unimportant.”

“No,” Nox said flatly, “I don’t know what your intention is, but you clearly expect or want something from me. If it was _unimportant_ , you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”

Valkorian gave the barest of smiles. “If you insist on a reason, then I will provide one. The truth is that death was a _contingency_ I unfortunately had to pursue. You have little concept of what I am, or what that entails. Circumstances and harsh realities forced my death. The alternative would have presented _complications_.”

“Such as?”

“Do not push, Sith,” Valkorian warned, shutting down the question, “You have not earned my respect or trust. I have provided you an answer, make of it what you will.”

“You dislike me, yet you…” Nox trailed off, suddenly scowling and her voice rose in revelation, “You _used_ me! _This_ was why you wanted me brought before you alive!”

“Perceptive.” Valkorian nodded approvingly. “While you remain close-minded, Sith, you possess _some_ intuition. You presented a unique opportunity I took advantage of. I make no apologies, much like how you make none for the spirits you bend to your will.”

“And what do you hope to achieve?” Nox demanded, beginning to pace the room, eying Valkorian with open suspicion, “Control over me? I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

“I’m aware of my limitations,” Valkorian answered, unconcerned, “My objective is simple. Through observing your… discussions… I have been disappointed at the handling of the Eternal Empire in my absence by Vaylin. Unsurprising, but disappointing nonetheless.”

“Oh?” Nox asked with a sneer, “Not satisfied with your daughter conquering the galaxy? Did you wish more destruction and war?”

Valkorian actually seemed offended at that, furrowing his eyebrows and his tone slightly more biting, “Unlike you, I do not consider rule of trillions a _trivial_ matter, nor see my citizens as _disposable_. Subjugating your Empire and Republic was the equivalent of a Dark Councilor fighting a Sith Apprentice. There is little point to maintaining control over it afterwards.”

“Says the man who _ordered_ the invasion!”

“My objective was twofold,” Valkorian continued, undeterred, “The elimination of Vitiate, and your capture. Both were achieved. I do not expect you to understand or forgive me, but my actions have ensured the continuation of civilization. Vaylin was unaware of the true goals of the conquest, and made incorrect assumptions, as did Arcann. Beyond her poor rule, there are other reasons why she should be removed.”

“Such as what?”

“She will lose her mind in time,” Valkorian said flatly, “It is inevitable. She was an… experiment. One which produced a being of power who would have grown into something greater than even I, with the proper direction and training. Only _I_ had the will to shape her,” he shook his head, a touch of regret in his voice, “Without me, she will turn into a monster which will not only destroy what you value, but also irreparably damage the Eternal Empire. That I _cannot_ allow.”

“Is this your way of saying you are going to _help_?” Nox asked incredulously, “You are aware that I have no plans for your _Eternal Empire_ other than destroying it completely.”

“Blinded by emotion, you might,” Valkorian dismissed, as if the possibility wasn’t even real, “but I suspect your pragmatism will overrule that – especially when you hear what I have to say. You do not care about the people; they are _beneath_ you. You only care about threats to your control. Those are the Scions, Knights, Exarchs, and Horizon Guard. They are the Eternal Fleet, and Vaylin.”

He gave a knowing, dangerous, smile. “You are not Vitiate. You are not content with ruling over a dead galaxy. You merely want the adoration, respect, and _control_ such a position entails. I do not relish putting a woman such as you on the Eternal Throne, but I have little choice, and you are preferable to Vaylin. As such, I will assist you, and hopefully influence you to be a slightly more tolerable ruler.”

“How pragmatic,” Nox muttered dryly, “Such confidence. I hate to _disappoint_ , Valkorian, but you will never be able to influence me.”

“Perhaps,” Valkorian mused, “but as I am bound to you now, I suspect _something_ will stick to your closed mind.”

“Is this all you will offer?” Nox wondered sharply, “Vague platitudes and pressing your opinions upon me? I have little interest in your ‘ _wisdom_.’ ”

“Spare me your vitriol,” Valkorian’s equally barbed words sounded both dismissive and annoyed, “I intend to be useful. I know the Eternal Empire better than any; their training, their capabilities, and their weaknesses. On a more… intimate level, I have _far_ more power than the spirits you have bound to you.”

“I see.” Nox appraised him. “But for this power, I suspect there is a catch.”

“It is a minor one,” Valkorian said, “I would only require the briefest moment of control, and you would have the power you have sought for your entire life.”

Nox laughed. “Do you really believe I will fall for that? You will not puppet me, Valkorian, but it was a valiant effort. Now release the spirits and allow them to speak once more. I will ask you for insight later, but for now I tire of your voice.”

Valkorian didn’t seem offended. “Very well, Darth Nox. Do not concern yourself with me; I will make myself known when I am ready.”

He faded from view, leaving a scowling Nox who was unable to get a word in. Daniel moved slightly forward, curious what would happen next. He saw a number of spirits appear around her, but before he could hear what they were saying, all sound in the room seemed to cease.

“Quite a curious situation,” Valkorian said beside him, his voice filled with an underlying threat.

Daniel stiffened.

“In _all_ my centuries, I have never quite experienced something like this.”

He walked before Daniel, looking both at and through him. Like before, Daniel was frozen, forced to look into the golden eyes of the man.

“I’m still not sure what you are…” He scratched his beard. “Perhaps from the past, perhaps the future. Yet the Force does not lie. I have an interest in preserving Nox, observer, and I do not know what you are or what your _interest_ is. **_Be gone_.**”

Daniel found himself thrown back into the currents, but knew his time was not done. So, even as a spirit, Valkorian had power – which either only worked because Daniel himself was also incorporeal _or_ Valkorian was lying to Nox about what he was capable of.

Either seemed possible.

Daniel only hesitated a moment, before picking a point and entering another moment in time.

* * *

He found himself on Korriban once again, though this time it was he who observed through the immaterial plane. There was a wind blowing that Daniel didn’t feel, but could see the effects of clearly. Red sand and dust blew across the desolate landscape, dirtying the structures and lone figure who stood with the sun to her back. It seemed like they were standing close to the entrance of the Sith Temple, which was ever so slowly beginning to crumble. To his mild surprise, Nox was standing before the spirit of Darth Vauner, who towered over her, arms crossed.

“And again you appear,” Valkorian said from behind him, causing Daniel to start as the spirit walked forward into view. This time though, Daniel found he could still move. For perhaps the first time, Valkorian seemed genuinely puzzled, appraising where he was standing like an insect under a microscope. “What _are_ you?”

“Can you understand me?” Daniel asked, noting how watery his voice sounded.

He usually didn’t speak in this state, so it always sounded _off_. A few seconds passed with the spirit simply pacing around where he was, though he didn’t appear to have heard or understood him. A shame, it seemed that there were some barriers he couldn’t penetrate, nor could Valkorian it seemed.

“I wonder what your interest in the Force-walker is,” Valkorian mused idly as he stood beside Daniel, turning his attention back to the duo, “Power she has, though her mind is too closed to ever truly rule. But she serves her purpose well as a leader in a conflict. She may yet prove herself.”

He went silent as the conversation between the two began, one which Daniel turned a keen ear to.

“This is not the time for disagreement,” Nox addressed Vauner flatly under the red Korriban sky, “Facing the Eternal Empire requires _all_ of us to work together.”

“And for what?” Vauner growled, “Why should I care about your conflict now? Your war?”

“Valkorian _killed_ you!” she pointed out.

“And Valkorian is _dead_ , if I understand correctly,” Vauner answered flatly, “There is no one alive who lives under Vaylin’s rule who I care for. You saw to that.”

Nox jabbed a finger at him, her skin flush with frustration. “Do not _dare_ pin their deaths on me!”

“You left her to _die_!” Vauner roared stepping forward, “ _All of them_!”

“And did you think I _intended_ that?” Nox retaliated in clear disbelief, “Your twi’lek wife had valuable connections to the Nar Shaddaa underworld, Jaesa was an invaluable resource, and even your talz was strong enough to take on _multiple_ Mandalorians! I cannot _afford_ to simply throw away people merely because I dislike their past associations.” Nox threw up a hand in disgust. “I’m willingly working with _Cipher Nine_. Please, do you _really_ think I hated you that much?”

“I most certainly do, Nox.” Vauner paced around her, glowering as his red eyes bore into her. “You’ve changed in some ways, but not in others. _I_ was the one who kept your ambitions in check and you hated me for it, and at the time I welcomed it. But you haven’t forgotten, and you don’t forgive. I wasn’t always confined to this planet after I died, Nox; while they were alive, I sometimes witnessed things.” He gave a toothless smile. “People can form connections, ones which persist it seems. Vette. Jaesa. I knew where they’d gone even after I died, and I knew their last task was a suicide mission.”

“Of _course_ the mission was dangerous!” Nox spat, “Every mission is dangerous against the Eternals! More importantly, they _volunteered_!”

“And did you tell them _what_ they were attacking?” Vauner demanded harshly, “That it would draw the Horizon Guard and an _Exarch_? Did they _know_?”

Nox’s face went blank for a mere moment in a brief, pregnant pause before speaking. “No. But we – _I_ – did not send them to die. We created contingencies, but underestimated how quickly they would respond.”

Vauner shook his head. “If it was anyone else standing before me, I might believe. But I know you too well, Nox, even if you claim you’ve changed. Perhaps you even think that, but I watched my wife and my Apprentice die, helpless to do anything because of your decisions. Perhaps you didn’t even consider me, but you certainly made a strategic decision to sacrifice others to achieve something more important. They were bait, after all. You knew it would distract and attract the Horizon Guard _and_ the Exarch.”

“Their deaths were not in vain.” Nox pursed her lips. “We brought down the Star Fortress and captured the planet. In comparison, yes, it was an acceptable trade-off, but I did not intentionally select them to participate nor write them off as dead.”

“Oh? Were there other volunteers?”

“It’s a resistance that attracts the idealistic and those with nothing to lose.” Nox scowled. “Of course they weren’t the only volunteers! They weren’t the only ones who died, either. Ashara and Lana lost some of their people too and they aren’t insisting I intentionally had them killed!”

“The reason I don’t believe you.” Vauner lifted a fist, cutting her off. “Is because Vette didn’t _belong_ on that mission. She can handle herself, but she is no warrior. That operation – not taking into account that it would attract the Horizon Guard – was for a special forces team. Jedi, Sith, experts, soldiers. Of which you have no shortage of.”

Vauner crossed his arms. “I’m not a fool, regardless of how much you wish I was. Either you are a liar, or you are incompetent, and while I dislike you, Nox, I’m certain that you can put together a coherent operation. And from what I saw… you did. Except for her.” He shook his head. “No. I will not help you. I will not be party to assisting your rise over a galaxy. Leave, and do not speak to me again.”

Nox just stared at him, as much as she could with the blindfold.

Valkorian suddenly materialized behind her. “Ah, the danger of love,” he drawled, “A poison to the mind that erodes rationality and truth. This Wrath is entitled to his mistaken beliefs, but as I do not withhold my distaste for your occasional tantrums, neither will I tolerate them from this man. He leaves you little choice. Deal with him and let us move on.”

“Vauner…” Nox said, slowly, neutrally, “I’m not asking for your help.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Vauner snapped, “You can demand all you wish, but I will not help you.”

“No.” Purple power flickered around Nox as she lifted a hand in the direction of Vauner, whose form was suddenly encased in a similar purple shroud. “I will have your power – willingly or otherwise. I don’t have a choice – but neither do you.”

Vauner now seemed to be in pain, even as his form flickered and discomfort shown on his face. “Think… _carefully_ … Nox,” he gasped, “If you do this… you _will_ suffer for it.”

Nox simply shook her head. “No. I won’t. I do not relish this, Vauner, but I have an empress to kill, and an empire to destroy. You will either help me, or I will use you to achieve this end. Too many rely on me not to make this choice.”

The purple shroud around Vauner encased him fully and then dissipated in a flash, the energy seemingly flying to Nox and encasing her briefly. Red and black discolorations were left behind, clinging to her form as the Force wavered, then gradually reestablished itself into something more natural. Slowly, Nox returned to normal, though seemed more drained than before.

“Excellent,” Valkorian hummed, pleased, “I will ensure he does not pose an unneeded distraction.”

“Yes,” Nox said quietly, adjusting her blindfold, “Do that.”

Valkorian looked at her expectantly. “This drains you too much, and time is of the essence. We are not finished here, and I know far superior ways of your process. I merely require a moment.”

“Cease, Valkorian,” Nox growled, straightening and facing the spirit, lifting a fist in a clear signal of defiance, “It will take far more than some discomfort to succumb to your words. I do not wish conversation. Leave my mind in peace.”

Valkorian dissipated, a smile on his face, and an amused glint in his eyes that were directed at Daniel. Nox walked away, with the setting of Horuset behind her as for the first time, Daniel eventually left the memory on his own, lingering to take some time to reflect before proceeding forward.

Vauner’s hatred and threats toward Nox made far more sense now, though seeing both of them… he was unconvinced Nox had intentionally killed his wife. Vauner certainly wouldn’t have wanted to hear it, but Valkorian was right – in principle – about one thing.

Love was a beautiful thing, but it could too easily become blinding.

* * *

The next place Daniel found himself in was, surprisingly, a very familiar one.

Darth Nox, Lana Beniko, the togruta Jedi Ashara, and Nox’s dashade stood in the Chambers of the Three, within the Tower of Prophecy on Voss, in the center of the domed chamber, looking up at where the Three were seated. Mystics sat in a massive circle around them, looking onward as Voss Commandos stood interspersed between them and at the entrance, while the Avatars of the Three flanked their respective patrons.

That alone told Daniel that the voss were… on edge. They never took such measures unless the possibility of violence was extremely high – though if the danger was truly real, Daniel was fairly certain the meeting wouldn’t have taken place at all. But even rarer was the fact that the Three themselves were meeting outsiders such as Nox in-person, and under such heavy guard. Interestingly, there was a non-voss who was directly under the elevated thrones the Three sat upon.

Upon seeing the species, Daniel suddenly realized that the cathar in voss robes was Ailon Tolgan, the most honored outsider the voss had ever recognized. To date, she’d been the only outsider buried within the Shrine of Healing. Given what she’d achieved, it wasn’t _too_ surprising. There were certain things the voss had not shared of her, but he did know that she’d previously been a Jedi who had united both the gormak and voss races and ended the centuries-long conflict.

A commendable woman for sure.

He looked upon the Three, wondering if he would recognize them. He didn’t, but thankfully, the voss had helpfully placed plaques before the thrones of the Three, two males and one female, all of them voss proper. Sonn-Vi, Gunta-Mer, and Nen-Ji, respectively.

“Honored Three,” Nox was starting, “We are grateful for you agreeing to speak with us. I’m thankful we can all recognize the threat the Eternal Empire poses.”

“Voss is not threatened,” Sonn-Vi immediately disputed blandly, “Those from the Eternal Empire come, and they die. We have seen the visions, and Voss is not threatened by your arrival. Thus, it is permitted. We would know why you have come.”

“Is it not obvious, Honored Three?” Lana inquired, “The Eternal Empire seeks complete control over the galaxy. Their rule has led to billions of deaths, and trillions more living in suffering. They are ruled by an increasingly erratic woman, who has turned to glassing defiant planets. All of us are threatened, even if few wish to admit it.”

“They are not voss,” Nen-Ji said with a verbal shrug, “Their fates are irrelevant.”

Nox furrowed her eyebrows. “This is not something that can be ignored forever, Honored Three. The Eternal Empire may overlook you now, but they doubtless see you as a threat – and even you will not be safe.”

“They have come before and paid the price,” Gunta-Mer stated, “Voss is safe. If they come once more, they will die again.”

Valkorian materialized behind Nox, appraising the voss with interest. “Such a _fascinating_ people. The only ones who were able to resist my Empire. Powerful enough to make my Scions _beg_ me to leave the planet in peace. I agreed, as they are a passive, _unimportant_ species. They pose no threat. However, I doubt that Vaylin’s state of mind will bestow the wisdom to grant these people a wide berth. Though such actions might become a boon to you.”

“Vaylin is a woman who is losing her mind,” Ashara spoke, stepping forward, “She may attack and lose, but she is not driven by reason. You are as much a valid target as the rest of the few independents who remain. If she attacks, no matter how strong your defense, voss _will_ die.”

Nen-Ji was unmoved. “Individuals die. The voss endure.”

Nox was struggling to not sigh or indicate her true feelings, and Daniel could tell the strain in keeping her voice calm, “And is it not worth preventing such a tragedy from happening in the first place? We do not seek your subordination, only your help.”

“If we do not help, voss may die,” Sonn-Vi stated academically, “If we help you, voss _will_ die. The visions are clear. War does not benefit Voss.”

“Oh?” Nox frowned. “Are you saying we are doomed? Is this why you refuse to help us?”

“If we help you, many voss will die,” Nen-Ji said, “If we do not, Voss thrives. The visions are clear. We will not deviate.”

Nox gritted her teeth as Ashara directed her attention to Tolgan. “Barsen’thor, I implore you to have them reconsider. You know the threat we face, and you cannot abandon us. We need the galaxy to join in this battle. The Eternal Empire cannot be stopped any other way.”

The cathar shook her head. “I wish you well in your fight, Grand Master Zavros, but I have lost my appetite for war.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow at the mention of the name ‘ _Zavros_.’ So, the togruta was Ashara Zavros… who coincidentally had the same surname as the togruta Sith he’d encountered on Dromund Kaas. While having the same surname didn’t _necessarily_ mean a familial relation… it would certainly be a coincidence if they _weren’t_ connected in some way.

A very distant ancestor then? Very interesting nonetheless.

Tolgan continued, “Even if I agreed with you, I cannot deviate from the vision any more than the Three can. They cannot be swayed, no matter what you or I could say to them. But I have fulfilled my destiny, and my role is not to save this galaxy.” She looked to Nox. “She will decide its fate.”

“Is that the wisdom of a vision, Jedi?” Nox asked, cocking her head.

“I have only seen you seated on the Eternal Throne.” Tolgan shrugged. “How you get there, how you rule, and what it costs, I cannot say. But it is clear that you are the catalyst. There is little I could do to change it.”

“Even so,” Ashara insisted, “Darth Nox will not get there without help. Even if the Three will not help… you could. Please Master, there are so few of us left as it is.”

“Nothing I would do would change the outcome.” Tolgan closed her eyes. “I have spoken to the Mystics about my fate; of visions I am seen in. In some I live; most I die. I do not matter in your war, Grand Master. I have a family now, a son I wish to see grow.” She walked over to Ashara and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Do not fear our small numbers,” she said softly, “One day, the reach of the Jedi will be unmatched throughout the galaxy. The heart of power will be within their grasp; the evil and corrupt will fear their legions; and the people will look not to politicians and mortals to save them, but armored men and women, carrying blades of rainbow.”

The togruta seemed slightly stunned, but nodded. “I… thank you, Master. And what of me?”

“Your role is not finished, I know that much,” Tolgan said, looking back to Nox, “but it is tied to her.”

“How droll,” Valkorian commented from behind Nox, “This dialogue is pointless. Their help would be useful, and we cannot squander it. You cannot force them, but _I_ can give you the power to bend them to your will. Without them, the Scions will prevent any meaningful damage within the territory of the Eternal Empire.”

Nox stood very still, clearly thinking, then a small shake of her head, and Valkorian vanished, an expression of disgust on his face.

“If you will not assist us, then—” she began, before they were all suddenly interrupted by the sound of the doors opening and voss soldiers and Commandos marched inside, with a small parade of humans and aliens in light mechanical gear retrofitted for combat.

“Koth?” Lana demanded as a specific captive entered, “What did you _do_?”

“Honored Three,” the leading Voss Commando greeted with a short bow, “We captured these people attempting to break into a number of locations and the Shrine of Healing. Given what we captured them with, we suspect they were attempting to set explosives and steal what they could. Some also attempted to penetrate the residence of the Honored Barsen’thor and capture her son.”

“ _What_?!” Tolgan demanded incredulously, storming over, “Is he—”

“Safe,” the Commando assured her, looking down at Koth; contempt in his glowing eyes, “He never even got close.”

“Is this true?” Nox demanded furiously, the air rippling with her fury.

“We told you they wouldn’t listen!” the man – Koth apparently – yelled defiantly, straining against the shackles, “They said ‘no,’ didn’t they?”

“What they _said_ isn’t important, not to _you_.” Nox blasted him with a bolt of purple lightning – not lethal, but not gentle either. “What were you _thinking_?”

“I… w-we needed to give them a r-reason,” he stammered, from fear or lightning-induced spasms, Daniel wasn’t sure which, “T-T-To help us. We need them! They won’t do it willingly, so we took matters into our own hands! Vaylin will destroy Zakuul if we don’t act!”

“Is that _all_ you can think about?” Nox hissed, power growing around her and audibly cracking, “ _Zakuul_. It isn’t _Zakuul_ that is under threat of being destroyed. It is not _Zakuul_ that lives under constant sanction and foreign rule. It is not _Zakuul_ which destroyed my people and almost wiped us out.” 

She knelt down and he could barely look into her blindfold. “You never wanted to see the truth, and I never told you,” she whispered quietly, “You were useful enough to not tell you about what I _intended_. But your use is at an end, as is all of your people. You betrayed me and there will be consequences.”

She stood, and lifted a fist. Koth was telekinetically lifted into the air, gasping. “Before you die,” Nox said, her voice frigid, “I want you to know that I will raze every world of Zakuul to ashes. Ten Zakuulian citizens will burn for every Imperial one lost. The pain inflicted on us will be returned _tenfold_! Die knowing you helped bring the death of your people!”

She gestured and Koth went flying before the dashade, landing in a heap before the monster. He tried scrambling away, before the dashade violently grabbed him. “Take care of him, Khem, and return when you are finished,” she ordered, turning to the Three as Koth started screaming and pleading, “These people acted without my authority or permission. Dispose of them how you see fit. I will not return to this planet.”

Each of the Three subtly acknowledged her with a nod of their head, and as one, the trio departed, the fury from Nox was palpable as blaster shots rang out – the Voss executing their captives. The screams of Koth echoed down the halls while the Mystics emotionlessly watched the traitor be devoured by the dashade.

It was over soon, and the hulking alien departed, leaving red stains, scraps of flesh, and remnants of limbs behind.

Daniel pursed his lips, and departed, thinking less of the conversation that Nox had with the Three, and more of what Tolgan had said. If Nox would sit upon the Throne… that could not be too much further.

He was getting close to the end of this tale. He could feel it.

* * *

This time, Daniel found himself in an empty bedroom. It was fairly spartan, but he could tell that it belonged to Darth Nox. There were scattered papers, emblems, some children’s toys he assumed belonged to her children. An open wardrobe held some black and gray robes, though upon closer inspection, they were all in various states of damage.

On a nearby workbench he saw tools used for building or repairing lightsabers, as well as a geological compressor for making synthetic crystals. Various components were strewn about it, along with what seemed to be some prototype hilts. To most, that would seem an odd addition, but Daniel suspected it was more practical than anything else.

Lightsabers required maintenance like any other tool, and in war… they took damage. They needed repair, and sometimes they needed to be rebuilt. The Jedi had a habit of tying themselves to their lightsabers, though if there was ever a war… well, Daniel knew _that_ habit would soon be dropped.

There were also flickering holodisplays along the walls, images captured of Nox or people close to her. It was a rather… pedestrian thing to see in the quarters of a Sith. The images flickered through every few seconds. Nox sitting in the Chambers of the Dark Council, her and Lana together in far safer times, Nox holding her newborn daughter, and more.

Oddly tranquil. Humanizing in its way.

A few minutes had passed since he’d entered, when he heard footsteps approaching before the door slid open and Nox half walked, half stumbled into the room, leaning against the nearby wall as the door closed behind her.

She looked like she’d just barely survived a battle. Her robes were torn and scorched, her lightsaber was literally being held together by tape, her gloves had been burned away, leaving her hands and forearms red and raw – presumably from blasting lightning. Chunks of her hair were also missing and singed, while her face was scraped and looked like it had taken shrapnel from a nearby fragmentation grenade.

Hands pressed against the wall, she was taking deep breaths, though it couldn’t hide the trembling that was starting to wrack her body, presumably from being alone and with no one watching her. With a short, loud shout she punched the wall with one fist, rattling the room before shaking her head and storming over to the refresher where she began cleaning herself up.

With a rag she wiped the blood from her face and applied fast-acting bacta to the scrapes and burns on her wrists. She removed her ruined robes – leaving only her undergarments on – and tossed them into a wastebin with a furious throw. A tremor in the wrist made them just barely miss, and with a scowl she telekinetically moved the clothes where they were supposed to go.

She unhooked her lightsaber and went to the bench, placing it down and reaching for the tools. She worked in cold silence for minutes, the exercise seeming to calm her nerves as she could focus on repairing her weapon.

“How does it feel,” a voice drawled, though this time there was no amusement, only disdain and irritation, “To be reminded of your own _mortality_?”

Nox stiffened, her hands closing into fists as she inhaled sharply. “ _Get_. _Out_.”

“After what a fool you have shown yourself to be, I think not,” Valkorian refused bluntly, “I will not _coddle_ you any longer.”

“Coddle? _Coddle_?!” Nox hissed, whirling to face the irate ghost, “Is that why _you tried to kill me_?”

“I have been _far_ too lenient with you, Nox.” Valkorian glared down at her. _“_ It is time you were brought down to _reality_. Do you understand how _trivial_ what I did was? And this was _after_ you ignored my advice,” Valkorian sneered, “I _warned_ you that the Scions would know you were coming. I _warned_ you that you were walking into a trap.”

He inhaled sharply. “And you refused to listen, because you don’t _trust_ me. I have grown tired of your _attitude_ toward me, Nox. It is past time you understood what will be _necessary_ to defeat Vaylin.”

“No!” Nox yelled, “I would _die_ before I let you control me!”

“Then you _will die_ ,” Valkorian snarled, “but you are weak, Nox. Pathetic. Vaylin will defeat you as easily as she did the first time, because you are a hollow vessel and always have been. You are nothing without your power, you are nothing without your spirits. If everything that elevates you beyond the ordinary is stripped away, you are nothing but a slave pretending to be something she is not.”

Nox screamed furiously and her body was engulfed with lightning which she directed at the blue-tinged spirit. It was a display of power that would have been able to reduce most beings to ash, and as it stood, the furniture in the room splintered and cracked, as the lights and electronics sputtered and sparked.

The power left her in a rush, leaving the Sith breathing heavily and Valkorian standing unaffected. He simply shook his head once. “To think I once believed you capable of more. Disappointing.” He faded from view, leaving Nox to sink down to the bench she’d sat on, her head resting in her hands, a light sob escaping her lips.

The door practically burst open and Lana, accompanied by several Jedi and Sith rushed inside, lightsabers drawn, clearly expecting some kind of danger. Upon seeing a beaten Nox surrounded by a destroyed room, Lana extinguished her lightsaber and waved the other Jedi and Sith to do the same. “Check the perimeter just in case,” she said, “I’ll talk to her. Keep this to yourselves, please.”

“Yes, Lord Beniko.”

Once the door closed behind her, Lana walked over and sat down beside her, putting an arm around her. “Hey, it’s all right. I’m here.”

Nox didn’t say anything at first, but gripped Lana’s free hand with her own, resting her blindfolded head on her shoulder. Both women stayed that way for several minutes.

“He almost killed me,” Nox’s voice was cracked, dry; horse compared to her usual vigor, “He almost killed me…”

“Valkorian?” Lana asked, “He can’t touch you.”

“No, Lana, he _can_!” Nox pressed, pitch unsteady, “I stood against the Horizon Guards as we retreated; it was an ambush, the Scions were as dangerous as we feared. I was about to kill them… then it vanished. The spirits, their power. It was _gone_. _Severed_.” She took a shuddering, sobbing breath. “He did it. He told me. He’s going to kill me unless I give in.”

“No, he won’t,” Lana told her firmly, “He may not fear you, me, or anyone else, but he fears death. He’s trying to intimidate you; scare you into capitulating. You _can’t_ let him do this to you.”

Nox took a shaky breath. “Maybe I should. I can’t beat the Eternals by myself, let alone Vaylin. I can barely keep the factions from outright breaking away. The voss, Mandalore, and Ascendancy said we’re on our own. Cipher Nine keeps threatening to fracture us if I don’t follow his ‘suggestions.’ And I just led a disaster of a mission and almost _died_.”

She took off her blindfold, parts of it slightly damp. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said softly, “Valkorian told me I was nothing without the spirits. I don’t know if he’s wrong.”

“ _No_.” Lana turned Nox to face her. “Don’t you _ever_ think that. If you were only as powerful as the spirits, could you have killed Zash? Could you have bound a _dashade_ to you? Could you have kept your sanity as the spirits vied for control?” She squeezed Nox’s hands in her own. “ _Look_ at what you’ve done. You’ve gotten the Republic, Empire, Jedi, Sith, and a mixture of pirates, criminals, Mandalorians, and outcasts all working _together_. You need more than _power_ to do that. If power was all it took, we wouldn’t be here. You did what none of us were able to do in _years_.”

“For now,” Nox muttered, though she did straighten, “It’s only a matter of time until they start to wonder. First the voss, now this mission…”

“Nox, listen,” Lana said firmly, “No one is going anywhere. We’re going to take some losses sometimes – _everyone_ knows that, and no one is expecting perfection. And at the end of the day, you’re still alive, and you’re going to learn. Valkorian may threaten you again, but he only has empty threats.”

She drew closer to Nox, until their foreheads rested against each other. “You’re not in this alone,” she said, “You have us. Revel, Ashara, Theron… and me. Valkorian wants to isolate you, and make you reliant on him. That is _not_ going to happen.”

Both Sith were quiet for a short time, until Nox finally spoke. “I believe you.” She took a short breath. “What would I do without you, Lana?”

Lana chuckled. “Probably die.”

Nox winced. “Harsh.”

“Who broke you out of carbonite again?”

“…Some nameless minion, if memory serves.”

“Cute.”

“I can be, but… point taken.” Nox straightened, shaking her hair out, some of her previous confidence back. “Thank you, Lana. I… needed to hear that.”

“You’d do the same.” Lana looked around the room, playfully frowning at the destruction. “A shame about the bed though.”

Nox nodded solemnly. “It _was_ a good bed.”

“The best,” Lana agreed, “I’ll get something to substitute it… and the rest of the room too.”

“Before that though.” Nox smiled mischievously, pulling Lana to her. “I think we can make do one last time.”

Their lips met. Each Lord of the Sith vying for dominance with their tongues. Nox pushed her lover down on top of the broken bed, only to be rolled over and pinned. Lana lifted Nox’s arms up to the cracked headboard, her blindfold flying off the nearby table on its own, only to bind her wrists to the remaining bedpost.

Nox eeped in surprise, “Lana!”

“Don’t struggle, love,” Lana purred, sliding across the Darth’s midriff, “Otherwise I’ll have to punish you.”

Their lips met once more, and it was no longer a question of which was dominant.

Seeing the direction this was headed, Daniel turned away to give them privacy and took the obvious cue to leave the vision, pondering what he’d seen. The bedroom faded away – the echoes of husky giggling fading with it.

* * *

The room Daniel found himself in this time was far smaller and had a homey atmosphere to it. Sunlight streamed into the room from a tinted sunroof, giving it a warm orange glow. Plants, artistic pieces, and artificial waterfalls along the walls, the sound of falling water soothing to his ear. Near the middle were seated two figures opposite each other.

Darth Nox took a small sip from the tea mug before her, seeming melancholy and oddly reflective. Daniel sensed that there had been some time that had passed since the last memory. Her neck was heavily burned, and half of her face had similar red burns – ones Daniel suspected had originated from a lightsaber.

It seemed she’d had some close calls.

It was more than the physical wounds. She seemed thinner, and her skin paler than before; closer to when she’d been brought out of carbonite than previous memories. Her clothes were also noticeably stitched and missing pieces. Her blindfold in particular had clearly suffered damage, and was barely holding together. Even her lightsaber was scratched and dented.

She was not defeated, not yet; but she was certainly no longer a firebrand. Worse, the fringes of despair and hopelessness were beginning to assert themselves, even if they weren’t visible. Odd that it was here that she was not bothering to shield her true emotions, even if she easily could. Even odder considering the man who sat opposite her.

He was dressed simply; only wearing a gray and white tunic and pants. His tanned skin, and blond hair was amplified by the orange light of the room. Only two things distinguished him, the deep red sash which was draped over his left shoulder, and the similarly colored blindfold over his eyes.

Daniel blinked, for the sash and blindfold he recognized. A Seer of the Luka Sene.

Interesting. It made some sense that Nox would seek them out, but they were not a militant order, even back then. As the authoritative government and guide of the miraluka, the Luka Sene had a certain amount of influence and power, but only a minority devoted themselves to defense and conflict. He respected the Luka Sene, especially after visiting Alpheridies personally, but they certainly weren’t on his list of dangerous sects, nor anyone else’s.

He settled in, as the talking began.

“You are not one of us, Onixa,” the miraluka said neutrally, “You have succumbed to the darkness.”

“Do not call me that,” Nox said, pursing her lips and gripping the tea mug tightly at the mention of her given name, “My name is ‘Nox’ now.”

A short nod from the man. “The point remains. You have come in peace, and I shall respect that. But you should not have come expecting our help. You know who we are and what we expect of our people.”

“And your fixation on _labels_ and _alignments_ is a waste of time,” Nox muttered, “I make no apologies for what I embraced, Nariah. I was a _slave_. It was either take the power or die. The darkness is not something to be feared, it saved my life.” 

She cupped the tea mug in both hands. “I tried, you know,” she remembered bitterly, “I tried remembering _peace_ and _calm_ when I was first taken.” She took another sip of tea. “You see the scars on my body. All your teachings encouraged was _submission_. To you, to the Luka Sene, to the slavers. The Sith would approve.”

The miraluka didn’t react to the jab as Nox took a short breath. “Do not _dare_ judge me. You have little concept of what it is like to be powerless for what seems like an eternity, and then be given a chance to make sure you can never be hurt again. The Sith gave me that power. What you taught only offered pain.”

The Sith shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Sith, Jedi; the Eternals don’t care if we follow the path of light or darkness, they simply wish to exterminate us all. They came for the Jedi, the Sith, they tried with the voss, and where do you think they will turn to next?”

Nariah simply shrugged. “We are one planet of peaceful people. They have little reason to come to us.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Nox waved a hand, voice mocking, “Of course you don’t. Vaylin doesn’t _care_ what you are. She is out for blood; _revenge_. Tell me if the planets she’s destroyed have posed a _threat_ to her. You are alone and weak. She failed against the voss, but even the Eternals fear them. The Mandalorians might put up a fight, so they’re less desirable. The Ascendancy is already waging a shadow war against them. You though? You’re an _alternative_. An easy target.” Nox paused. “How long until she figures that out?”

Nariah simply sipped from his own tea, voice still unconcerned, “I do not know. She may not be aware of our existence.”

“You think I’m too far gone,” Nox said, leaning forward, “To you I might be. But I am not a raving lunatic like Thanaton, an apathetic ruler like Vitiate, or an emotionless husk like Jadus. My allies include what remains of the Jedi; they include Republic soldiers and citizens; they include criminals and outcasts. I do not agree with them, nor they with me. But it doesn’t matter. We’re _all_ a threat to the Eternal Empire, and they do not distinguish between the ‘corrupted’ and those who are not.”

The Sith leaned back in the chair. “You have not changed much, and I sense that you wish to help. You see what has happened to the galaxy. But you cannot overcome your revulsion for me. Hate me if you wish, but this is _bigger_ than me or you. If you truly believe what you preach, do not abandon the galaxy because of your _pride_.”

“You are a stain to our species and people, Onixa,” he said neutrally, shaking his head, “If we help you, we endorse what you are; we endorse the people you associate with. We are touched by the Force, and when one of our kind rises, the galaxy shakes. We saw what happened when one of our kind fell before; the Sith rose and Katarr remains a Wound on the galaxy, even as we’ve tried to rebuild. Your own rise has brought war, bloodshed, and betrayal.”

He laced his fingers together. “In less tumultuous times we would take action, but your circumstances are unique. Thus, we will not act against you, but we will not help you.”

Nox’s body was tense, and her hands had curled to fists which she rested on the armrests of the chair. Conflicting desires flew through her in a flood as she tried to think of what to do next. “I’ve been fighting for years,” she said quietly, “For many of the others, they’ve been fighting for over a decade. This cannot continue. Manpower, resources, hope…” She waved a hand. “All dwindling. I didn’t want to return. I didn’t want to seek you out. But I don’t have a choice anymore. I need your help.”

“We are not even militant,” the miraluka noted, “We are not the Jedi. We are not the Sith. Even the voss have a more formidable defense force.”

“I do not wish your warriors and Seekers, but the Seers,” Nox explained simply, “The voss refused, and we have nothing to counter the Scions of Zakuul. So long as they remain unchallenged, any attempt to reach the Eternal Throne will be a suicide mission. It’s been years and we’ve never been able to cause damage near Zakuul itself. We _need_ to be able to counter them somehow. The Luka Sene can do this.”

“Even if we could, I have made my position clear.”

A pause, and Nox asked a single question, “Then what would it take?”

Nariah cocked his head. “We cannot be bribed, Onixa.”

“I’m not talking about _money_.” Nox took a shaky breath. “I am the only reason you are hesitant. Name what I have to do to earn your help and I will do it.”

“You are Sith.” He frowned. “You are willing now, but should victory be achieved, I have little to guarantee your word.”

Nox nodded. “I know. But the alternative I face if I cannot secure your help is… worse.”

“Such chatter is pointless, as is this weak man.” Valkorian seemed more irritated than he’d been previously as he materialized between both of the figures. He fixed Nox with a hard stare. “I continue to offer you what is _required_ to defeat Vaylin, and you continue spurning me. After all these years, after how much I have _helped_ you, you still fail to trust me. It has become insulting, especially if these are the people you beg for help.”

Nariah pursed his lips, sensing or seeing the spirit. “He is bound to you?”

A short nod. “Yes.”

“He offers you power,” the miraluka noted, “Yet you refuse. Why?”

“It’s not obvious?” Nox turned her blindfolded eyes against the imposing spirit. “I cannot trust him. He has and will continue to use me for his own ends, much as he does everything. I will resist him as long as I can, but my options are running out.”

“And would you give yourself for the power?” Nariah questioned.

There was a long pause. “No,” Nox finally said, looking away, “And that is why he has begun turning on me. Because I will not succumb to his demands. He fears death, and my refusal to ensure my survival his way frightens him.” She shrugged. “And he isn’t wrong. I can only persist so long, but I will die if things do not change. The Luka Sene are my last hope.”

The Sith seemed deflated at the admission, slouched and weary. “My only options are fleeing or dying, and I will not flee. So I ask you again – what do I need to do?” She bowed her head. “See me exposed before you, I have nothing more left to hide.”

The Seer leaned forward, eyebrows furrowing as he concentrated. Daniel refrained from also sensing the Sith, as this was a… very personal ritual the miraluka performed; an unrestricted glimpse into a person’s entire being. A ritual that was only practiced between the most trusted of friends or to prove one’s intentions.

No miraluka would ever dream of sharing details of such an experience, even if it was a Sith.

Minutes passed and Nariah leaned back into his chair. “I will speak before the Administrative Council, Onixa. I expect they will be receptive to what I have to say. If you succeed against the Eternal Throne, you will return before the Council and submit yourself to our judgment. That is the price of our help.”

Nox gave a single nod. “It will be done. You have my promise.”

Valkorian shook his head from behind her. “Fool. One who makes such a concession does not deserve to sit upon the Eternal Throne.”

“On the contrary, spirit,” Nariah said calmly, “That is _exactly_ the one who should sit upon it.”

Valkorian vanished, though was doubtless still watching.

“Thank you,” Nox said, rising, “There is hope for the future after all.”

“There always is.” The miraluka bowed. “All will pass in time, but the Force is eternal – and I suspect the darkness which has fallen over the galaxy – and perhaps upon yourself – will soon be lifted. You will hear from us soon. May the Force be with you.”

Daniel left the memory soon after she left, believing he had witnessed an important turning point. Nox certainly struck him as… well, less of a Sith than she’d been before. The war had likely changed her; and made her more pragmatic, if nothing else. Within the eddies of the Force, there was only one place where the currents intercepted, before it ended.

It was time to see the end.

* * *

Once more, Daniel found himself in the Throne Room, though in contrast to the first time, it had clearly been the epicenter of chaos. Small fires burned throughout the platform and below it. Outside the transparent sphere were fighters and warships exchanging blaster fire with the alien formations of the Eternal Fleet, as wreckage floated along, occasionally banging into the Throne Room exterior.

Inside, there was only carnage.

The transparisteel was smeared in multiple places with blood and fluids from various defenders and attackers. Many bodies had been thrown off the platform and their broken corpses were haphazardly piled up below. On the platform, more corpses lay; a mixture of Zakuulian defenders and invading rebels.

Jedi, Sith, Imperial, Republic, there had been a heavy toll extracted from the attackers, but it appeared to have been successful. Near the throne, Nox was struggling to rise from the ground, but opposite her was the body of Vaylin. Both had suffered extensive wounds.

Nox’s blindfold had been lost and her left arm was limp and coated in blood while her robes were burned and ripped, and judging from the burns on her right arm, she’d nearly lost it to a lightsaber. Compared to Vaylin though, she looked almost healthy. The corpse of the Empress was battered and destroyed beyond recognition. Limbs were missing, the face was caved in, and the body was splattered with red blood and soot.

Nox wasn’t the only survivor. Lana and Khem were also alive, though wounded to differing degrees. Lana had lost an eye and a hand, which she was clutching the stump of and applying bacta to. The dashade had lost most of its armor, and from the amount of blood covering the body, Daniel wondered if it had most of the skin had been outright flayed off.

If it was in pain, it didn’t show it.

Valkorian materialized behind Nox, looking down at the corpse of his daughter. “Such a waste,” he said, softer than usual and with a hint of self-reflection.

Nox ignored him, and stumbled over to Lana and both embraced tightly as both reveled in the fact they had survived. “We did it,” Lana murmured into her ear, “We beat her; you beat _him_.”

“ _We_ won.” Nox quickly broke the embrace, as if remembering something. “I need to stop the fleet!”

She quickly rushed up the steps to the Throne as Valkorian watched from below, an odd look of amusement on his face. After some brief hesitation, Nox gingerly sat upon the Eternal Throne. It immediately reacted, projecting a massive holodisplay of the current status of the Eternal Fleet before her in the highly ordered formations they flew in.

The images suddenly turned red and disappeared, replaced by the static image of an alien emblem Daniel had never seen before, nor Nox, if her frown was any indication.

 ** _“UNKNOWN USER DETECTED,”_** the voice was harshly robotic and malevolent, **_“FLEET CONTROL HAS RETURNED TO GEMINI INTELLIGENCE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE | PLEASE IDENTIFY TO RESUME CONTROL OF THE ETERNAL FLEET OF ZAKUUL.”_**

“Empress Vaylin has been removed,” Nox told the intelligence, slightly hesitant and unsure of what to say. Daniel noticed that the Eternal Fleet outside had stopped firing. “I am in control of the Eternal Throne. I request that all controls be turned over to me.”

**_“PLEASE INDICATE THE STATUS OF USER-EMPRESS-VAYLIN.”_ **

“Indisposed,” Nox smiled upon saying that, “She… requested control be transferred to me.”

**_“PLEASE REMAIN STILL AND PREPARE FOR BIOMETRIC CONFIRMATION FOR CONTROL OF THE ETERNAL FLEET.”_ **

A droid was suddenly launched from behind the Throne and hovered around Nox, who cocked her head in the direction of the droid as it scanned her. A panel opened under an arm of the Throne, which appeared to be a handprint scanner. Nox wiped her hand clear of most dirt and blood, and placed it down for scanning. The droid finished and returned to the designated spot on the Throne.

 ** _“BIOMETRICS COLLECTED | SEARCHING DATABASES FOR MATCH.”_** There was a short pause. **_“IDENTIFY CONFIRMED AS ‘DARTH NOX KALLIG.’ POSITION: ‘OUTLANDER’ | THREAT: MAXIMUM | THE ETERNAL EMPIRE HAS BEEN COMPROMISED | INITIATING CONTINGENCY 2187.”_**

Nox stiffened, her face drained of what little color remained. “Wait! Stop!”

Her words went unacknowledged and the Throne went completely offline. Nox slammed a fist on the Throne, and pressed all the buttons she could see, but it didn’t restart. Beyond the Throne Room, Daniel saw the _entirety_ of the Eternal Fleet begin jumping into hyperspace in different directions for some inexplicable reason. Nox screamed in fury at the disappearing fleet. 

“What did it do?!” Lana demanded, “It shouldn’t have done that!”

“Come now,” Valkorian chided as he climbed the stairs, looking maliciously amused, “Did you think I _wouldn’t_ have prepared for the possibility that an enemy might sit upon the Throne?”

“You lied!” Nox screamed, rising from the Throne. Lana became distracted by her beeping holo-communicator and clicked on her earpiece as Nox confronted the spirit. “From the _beginning_ you said the Throne would allow whoever sat upon it to control the fleet! Your people, your military, _everything_ told us this!”

“I did lie, it is true,” Valkorian confirmed with mock sympathy, looking down on her, “As I have from the beginning. I wondered if you would change, if you would give me a reason to tell you the truth, but you did not.” He shook his head, his false sympathy containing nothing but salt. “A true pity; you had… such promise. You could have been my successor to all of this, but you repeatedly demonstrated your immaturity and selfishness. Thus, I made do with the tools at my disposal.” 

He did not bother hiding his mockery as he finished, “Do not despair, Nox, you fulfilled your purpose to the letter. Vaylin is dead and a suitable leader will one day sit upon the Throne.”

Nox just stood there in silent fury, her chest rising and falling; stiff and unmoving while a mocking Valkorian stood over her. The Force wavered around her, sharp emotions whiplashing with such intensity the Throne began subtly warping and bending. Valkorian seemed to be waiting for something, but Nox just stood in silence.

“Nox…” Lana finally spoke, swallowing as she approached, holding a holo-communicator, “You need to see this.”

The image of a very agitated Cipher Nine appeared as Nox and Valkorian turned to watch. _“What happened, Nox?!”_

“What are you talking about?” Nox demanded, her milky eyes somehow expressing confused fury.

 _“Are you_ _blind?!”_ the chiss demanded incredulously, _“What did you do_ _?!_ _The Eternal Fleet is appearing everywhere! Every single outpost and fortress is reporting bombardment!”_

“What?” Nox stiffened. “They’re attacking us?”

 _“Not just ‘us,’ Nox,”_ Cipher Nine corrected tightly, _“They’re attacking_ **everything** _. Mining stations, neutral planets, civilians, the entire Outer Rim if hutt panic is anything to go by! It’s like the Fleet has gone mad!”_ The image wavered, broke, and reformed as he repeated the first question. _“ **What did you do**?!”_

“I killed Vaylin! I-I-I sat on the Throne!” Nox answered, and for the first time Daniel had heard her voice stammer, “The managing intelligence initiated a contingency and the fleet vanished! I didn’t know what it meant!”

 _“Impossible,”_ Cipher Nine actually sounded surprised, _“That isn’t the protocol it should have followed. We have documents about the process…”_

“All very real,” Valkorian said with a thin smugness, “There were only a few select people who knew the true method of transferring control of the Throne to another – and they would not share our final safeguard against a usurper taking our greatest weapons.”

Nox just stood, frozen.

 _“Nox!”_ Cipher Nine snapped, the image starting to flicker, _“Your Alliance needs orders! The Fleet is not stopping; I will need— underground— do not— again—”_

The holoimage broke up before cutting off and Nox threw the useless device away before ripping the Throne upwards with a furious wave of her good arm, and tossed it against the transparent sphere.

She sank to the steps. “What have I done…?”

“We need to get out!” Lana yanked her up with her one good hand. “He’s not wrong – you need to send out something! Anything! If we don’t do something, we’ll all die for _nothing_!”

Nox’s face hardened and she took a few seconds to visibly compose herself. “Order the _Gravestone_ evacuated and set systems to primary autopilot. Send the order to execute _VITIATE SHADOW_. Alliance-wide.”

“Are you sure…?” Lana balked, “It’s—”

“If Valkorian set us up to destroy ourselves,” Nox said grimly, “then his Empire will die as well. Kill them all.”

“What are you planning with the _Gravestone_?” Lana demanded as Nox descended the stairs, “It needs a commander to execute complex directives. You can’t seriously—”

“Khem,” Nox addressed the dashade, “Go with Lana. Keep her and the children safe. That is my final command to you.”

“Nox!” Lana rushed to her. “Whatever you’re thinking, we can do something else!”

“No!” Nox yelled, spinning to face her, “This is _my fault_! I’ve been used by him this _whole time_! I can’t get rid of him, and if I continue… he will break me eventually. He’ll worm his way into my mind.” She took a deep, pained breath. “I rejected him and he’s still won. I won’t endanger you, our children, Ashara, Revel, or anyone else anymore. There is only one thing he fears, and that is death.”

Valkorian materialized beside Daniel, amusement wafting off him, and Daniel wasn’t sure if his words were directed at him, or if they were idle musings. “Even now she remains a fool. Death has never been a cause for fear. Not when it has been _transcended_.”

Lana shook her head. “No, you don’t—”

“Yes.” Nox clasped her good hand over Lana’s remaining one. “And you need to leave. We planned for this. I can’t join you… but you can still live. All of you can. I will find you, one way or another. Death will not hold me anymore than Valkorian – and then I will be free of him. Please, Lana… go. While you still can. Tell the children I love them.”

The dashade said something, and bowed its head to Nox, before looking expectantly at Lana.

“Okay.” Lana took a shaky breath, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t talk you out of it anyway.”

Nox gave a sad smile. “Not this time, Lana.”

Lana nodded, and both women kissed one last time before they both rushed out of the Throne Room, then went separate ways, Lana and Khem to the hangar to likely steal a ship, and Nox to her flagship. Daniel followed Nox closely, and she seemed notably calm despite everything that had happened.

Likely because she now had nothing left.

There was only vengeance.

“It did not have to end this way,” Valkorian said, only sounding slightly apologetic, “You could have ascended the Throne with my blessing and power; you could have been given control over the galaxy itself. Yet instead, you rejected what I offer, and showed yourself unworthy. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Nox was silent.

“The contingency can be reversed,” Valkorian said as the silence lingered, “I know how. I can tell you how if you are willing to reconsider your path.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Nox demanded coldly, “Beg your forgiveness after what you have done? All you showed me was something I should have done long ago. There is only one way I will be free of you, and nothing you can say will stop me.”

The chamber opened and she marched toward an airlock that led onto a ship of alien design that Daniel noted was not Zakuulian. It was abandoned, or evacuated. Both Nox and Valkorian did not speak until they were on the command deck, where Nox began issuing orders to the machine intelligence – and directing it to ram the sun of the Zakuul System at hyperspeed.

Given the size of the _Gravestone_ , Daniel realized that it _was_ capable of triggering a supernova – in theory at least. Ramming spacecraft into stars was not widely practiced, and in fact was only possible to do if you turned off every inbuilt safety feature and bypassed numerous warnings. It was almost impossible to ‘accidentally’ ram into _any_ planetary body, let alone a star.

Nox was taking a risk that this would actually work, though Daniel was moderately confident the _Gravestone_ would be capable of destroying the system this way. Not certain, but there was a high likelihood – especially considering Zakuul orbited an Osk-type star, which weren’t the most stable to begin with.

“Is this your petulant act of rebellion?” Valkorian asked, not sounding remotely concerned as he watched as the ship angle and calibrate, “A vain act of self-sacrifice? Ordering your people to commit reciprocal genocide?”

“You left me no choice,” Nox said without looking at him, “If we die, you and your Empire will die too.”

Valkorian verbally shrugged, “If you insist.”

“Do you even care what will happen?” Nox demanded, “Or do you still believe you are infallible, even now?” She locked the course in as the hyperdrive powered up, knowing the end was near for both of them.

“Of course I care,” Valkorian mused, “but you will ultimately achieve nothing with this act of supposed revenge. One system will be destroyed. Planets will be ruined if your allies successfully carry out your last command.” He shook his head. “But the Eternal Empire will not die by your hand. I have prepared for _all_ possible outcomes – my death, the destruction of Zakuul, even a usurper attempting to control my fleet – all seen and accounted for, as you now know.” 

He fixed Nox with a mocking, confident stare and thin smile. “The Eternal Empire will rise again, Sith. All you have done is forced it to sleep. You should have accepted my offer at the beginning – and perhaps you would have sat upon the Throne with my blessing. But you had the _audacity_ to believe that you _challenge_ me; _defy_ me – and _win_.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “So be it. Prepare yourself for death, Darth Nox, knowing you brought about your own destruction and that of everything you cared about. Prepare yourself, knowing you are a failure now and forever.”

A final smile played upon his lips, a naked contempt and triumphant gleam in his eyes as the light of the sun blueshifted across the viewscreen as the Gravestone leapt into hyperspace. “Prepare to die – knowing that _I won_.”

Moments later, the world turned white and the last thing a disembodied Daniel Skywalker saw was the Zakuul System incinerated to dust in the aftermath of the artificial supernova.

And just like that, it was over.

* * *

The worst part about flow-walking was the end.

Having likely not eaten or drank anything properly for days at a minimum, returning to reality was not a pleasant transition and this time was no different. Daniel had a sour taste in his mouth, there was a terrible smell around him, and he felt dehydrated and famished. His body was unimaginably still as well, and even his mechanical limbs seemed a bit rusty.

But he was alive.

He opened his eyes, and to his surprise, both Lara and Alana were looking down at him along with Aldas’Lo. He craned his neck and pulled off the breathing mask. He was about to say something before Lara swept him up into an embrace. “Whatever you do,” she said into his shoulder, “ _please_ never do something like that again.”

“Hey, I’m alright,” he said, his voice creaky and dry, “You didn’t have to come checking up on me. I’ve done this before. It’s normal.”

＜＜Not necessarily, Grand Master Daniel Skywalker,＞＞ Aldas’Lo said, ＜＜We had feared you were lost to the currents when so much time passed. We reached out to the Jedi and Master Lara’ritten and Mediator Alana Skywalker came.＞＞

Daniel nodded as he broke his embrace with Lara, and smiled at his great-granddaughter. “Alana, it’s so good to see you.”

“You too,” she said into his shoulder as they embraced, “I was worried when you were gone for so long…”

Daniel suddenly picked up on what Aldas’Lo had called her. “ ‘Mediator’?” he asked when they separated, “Not a Sentinel?”

“Not anymore.” She sighed, rubbing a hand through her hair. “I thought about what we’d talked about. The Militant Order was a bit too pushy, and I talked to Pon and Lara about it. Toghra was having similar thoughts and she was for it. Undien’s not the best boss, but…” She shrugged. “Well, I feel like I’m making more of a difference now. Small price to pay.”

Daniel nodded, happy to hear it, then frowned as he realized all of this had happened while he was flow-walking. “Just how long was I gone…?”

“ _Two months_ ,” Lara admonished in a raised voice, “You were gone _two whole months_ , give or take. Pon almost forced the Council to declare a state of emergency, while Alana submitted a missing person’s report before Yaden and I told them where you were. We reached out to the aing-tii and they told us you still hadn’t come back. Alana and I came as soon as the call ended. We’ve been here every other day for almost a month.” She closed her eyes. “I thought you were lost. A few more days and Palavola was going to try and bring you out of it.”

“A good thing I came out when I did,” he mused, “Breaking someone out of flow-walking is dangerous.”

Lara sighed, one of relief and irritation. “Well… you came out on your own. Was it worth it?”

Daniel thought for a few seconds, thinking on everything he’d seen – though hesitant to say too much, since Alana was here. He wished he could tell her, but it was too risky – especially now that she was working directly under Undien. It was a lot to sift through anyway, and he’d need time to pick out what to do and where to go from here. Some on the Council would doubtless want answers, and that was something he’d have to deal with.

“Yes…” Daniel said, half to himself, half to them, “It certainly was.”

“That’s good to hear.” Lara nodded.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Daniel promised Lara, calling his cane to him that was propped against the wall, for once actually planning to use it, at least for a little while. He smiled apologetically at Alana. “This is Council business, sorry.”

She snorted good-naturedly. “What? After you scare us and I don’t even get to learn what was so important?” She seemed almost serious, until she burst into a wide smile. “Kidding, I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“So am I,” Daniel agreed, “I guess we have some catching up to do.”

“Yeah, it’s been too long,” she said, “Feels like years.”

“We can get to that,” Lara said as they started walking, “but first, Daniel, you need to drink this.”

“What is…? Oh,” he said as she handed him a colorful bottle.

“It’ll replenish your electrolytes.”

“Yeah, I… I know.”

Alana coughed. “Also, you need a shower… _desperately_.”

Daniel chuckled. “Fine. Shower first, maybe some food… then we talk.”


	6. Voss - Vision of Twilight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLotH4’s Note: Another terrific entry by Xabiar, and a call to arms for you, dear reader! In all seriousness – drama aside – there is a ton of stuff we want to push out, but Xabiar is only one man, and I’m… well… I’m averaging three 8k chapters a year at best. Plus, I don’t really have an aptitude for documentation pieces.
> 
> So, if you have a desire to contribute to this universe – either through documentation pieces or short stories – this is your chance to join. There are dozens of pending ideas that will languish in obscurity until someone writes them.
> 
> PM me if you’d like to contribute to the Slothverse lore. We have histories, dossiers, tech guides, research papers, cultural legends – you name it. Or maybe you have your own ideas? Something we haven’t even thought of yet? We’re always open to more perspectives and ideas. This whole project would be nothing without the work I do with my team on this stuff.
> 
> Creativity is a team sport, people.
> 
> Xabiar’s Note: Roll credits! This chapter has a lot of interesting things in it – but don’t feel the need to read *too* much into it. As they say, always in motion is the future…
> 
> Additionally, I’ve gone back and made some additions to the earlier chapters since some things regarding Daniel’s relationships with certain characters were brought to my attention and I was dissatisfied with how they were handled so far. That should be fixed now, and I think they make a part of this chapter more impactful.

** SotP Tales - Prelude to Twilight **

* * *

PART VI

_ Voss – Vision of Twilight _

* * *

Voss was a planet which appeared normal from a distance.

The yellow-orange planet, broken up by bright aqua oceans, had no significant urban development, a single orbital station hovered idly above it, and there were no patrolling fleets of drones or ships. From a distance, it looked uninhabited – at most, the haven of a smuggler or pirate gang. Even if one tuned their sensors for life-sign readings, they would only discover a population of hundreds of millions and still dismiss them as a primitive civilization.

Such small numbers were paltry as far as populations went.

Still, few would expect this planet to be home to some of the most powerful Force-users in the galaxy. Going to Voss was always a fascinating experience as it, without fail, always felt like walking onto a world where time stood still. The voss were a consistent people who almost never changed their ways.

Throughout the course of millennia, they had stayed exactly the same. A society bound to the will of the Mystics, in what was a disquieting dictatorship for those ignorant of the intricacies of voss society. While Daniel personally didn’t subscribe to a singular ‘set’ path as was guided by the Mystics, he couldn’t deny that the voss had managed to endure calamities and survive invasions which should have wiped them out.

First in the days of the Old Republic when the Sith Empire had been driven out. Then later when the Eternal Empire had come. Beyond that, there were several isolated incidents he’d found, like when the Old Republic had considered invasion after the Ruusan Reformations. Or centuries later, when both Darth Vader and Palpatine had ‘visited’ the planet.

More recently, there had been the infamous attempted invasion by the Migrant Fleet.

And like previous attempts, it had failed miserably.

Daniel idly wondered as to the thought process of anyone who knew even the faintest of facts about the voss – and also thought they could be attacked successfully. It took a certain arrogance to be so ignorant of history – or perhaps just simple madness. Both were not, admittedly, in short supply in the Migrant Fleet.

A shame the Admiralty likely would take the wrong lessons from their failure.

Daniel’s X-wing tore through the atmosphere, and when the scattered clouds parted, the vast landscape of the planet lay before him. Rolling fields and hills of orange-yellow grass, towering trees with colorful leaves, stone monuments and towns, all of which dotted the landscape. Permeating through it all was the Force, touching every part of the planet it had shaped from the beginning.

What was truly unique about Voss was how it felt in the Force. He didn’t believe there was another equivalent planet. A world saturated in pure _power_ , yet which also felt like a true equilibrium; light and dark both balanced with no domination; nor even a hostile battle for dominance. Both light and dark existed in harmony; two parts to the same unifying power. Of course, there were some parts of the planet where one overpowered the other, yet for every place like the Nightmare Lands, there was a Shrine of Healing.

Text appeared on his screen, and Daniel smiled as he imagined the concerned beeping. “They never ask for Isk-Dorn, Artoo, you’ve been here before.”

More text, and he could perfectly imagine the droid’s concerned warble. R2 had never liked this planet for some reason. Perhaps the lack of droids. Or the gormak. The last time he’d been here, he _had_ admittedly intervened to stop the gormak from disassembling the astromech.

“Don’t worry,” Daniel reassured him, “They know I’m coming _and_ not to treat you as scrap.”

The droid did not seem reassured.

The city of Voss-Ka was just ahead, and one of the stone landing platforms was open as usual. There weren’t a lot of other ships landed, as only the occasional outside trader came to Voss. Nor was it a planet which received a lot of tourism. Some sought out the voss, if word of their powers of healing was learned, but it was a very small minority.

The voss fleet, which they _did_ have, was stationed somewhere else. Daniel _believed_ the hangar was nearby, but couldn’t know for sure. The military secrets of the voss were not typically shared with outsiders, despite his positive relationship with the Three.

The voss were careful to not reveal their true strength.

Once the X-wing set down, the cockpit hissed as it opened up. Daniel exited the starfighter with a jump while R2 was lowered to the ground. It was only moments before he sensed a familiar presence. Turning, he saw a gormak approaching him. Brushing his hands off, he made a deep bow toward the woman who wore more atypical attire than one expected of the Mystics.

The gormak before him had once been a Battle-Master, the commanders of the Army of the Voss. Having seen them in action before, Daniel could vouch for their effectiveness. This particular woman had appeared to keep at least some of her battle armor, though she had also woven silks and cloth through it, turning it into an unexpectedly practical hybrid style. Her attire was colored in orange and white, with symbols and emblems of a dozen languages etched or stitched throughout the armor and robes.

Two eyes of fire glowed ominously from under a thick cloth hood. Despite the lack of certain facial features of their voss proper relatives, Daniel somehow found the gormak to be more… expressive in a way. As if they knew they were inherently limited expressively, and sought to compensate.

Though what made this particular voss important wasn’t her power, race, or even attire. It was a small symbol etched onto her breastplate – the emblem of one of the Three.

“Nara-Ro,” he greeted the voss as she stood before him, flanked by three Voss Commandos, all of whom were voss proper and thus towered over the smaller gormak woman, “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“I extend the same to you, Daniel Skywalker,” she inclined her head, and with a short wave, dismissed the Commandos, who left without a word, “Walk with me.”

Jedi and voss walked the paved streets of Voss-Ka. Voss cities were often sprawling, as they disliked building tall structures, instead, maximizing the available space. Each building was unique, and each was spaced to fit in with the naturally mountainous environment. It would likely make a city planner cry with how haphazard the design was, not to mention the hundreds of square meters of empty space. Personally, he found it rather relaxing. It displayed a coexistence with the planet most would not think as notable. Stairwells were built into stone, maintained vegetation grew wherever he could see, and there was no sound of speeders or aircars.

It was a tranquility he was envious of. When all was said and done… if there was a planet he was ready to become one with the Force on, it would be Voss. Though he knew it wouldn’t be quite as simple as that. The voss did not let just anyone emigrate, and while he was on good terms with the Three, such would be an inherently selfish request.

Ah, well, it was bold of him to be assuming he’d get a retirement at all.

“Considering how quickly you found me, I assume I was expected?” he asked as they walked.

“You are seeking answers to the threat which overshadows your people,” Nara-Ro said without looking to him, “You have traveled the galaxy, but answers continue eluding you. I knew you would come eventually.”

“I wouldn’t say my luck has been _that_ bad.” Daniel chuckled. “I’ve… made some useful discoveries. But you know better than any that visions are not always the clearest.”

There was a short shake of the head. “No, Daniel, the visions are clear, our understanding is not.”

Which was effectively the same thing in his view, but the last thing he wanted was to get into a semantic argument with one of the Three. To the voss, a vision could _never_ be wrong. If there was fault, it lay with the interpreter or visionary, not with what was seen.

“As you were.” Daniel bowed his head. “Nonetheless, I do come in search of answers.”

“You will find such here,” she said with a surety typical of her people, “Yet I am curious. What have you learned? What finally led you back here?”

Daniel ran a hand through his hair. “That’s a long story.”

She looked to the path they walked, with some other voss standing nearby and speaking to traders, each other, or working on landscaping and other innocent activities. They very noticeably did not approach Nara-Ro, merely falling to one knee if she got close enough.

“My residence is some distance. Speak. I am curious.”

“As you wish.” Daniel bowed his head, and started from the vision on Dagobah, then to Ahch-To, and then to Korriban. He was starting to tell her of Valkorian, Nox, and what he had seen before he noticed something very peculiar on her face. He had just asked her if she knew about Valkorian or Nox, and while she had reacted to some things he’d said before – mostly confirming nods or other expressions indicating what he was saying wasn’t unexpected – this was different.

This was _surprise_.

For the first time in his life, Daniel saw a voss be surprised. Granted, it was very subtle, and if one wasn’t familiar with how the voss reacted emotionally, it was easily missed. But he saw it. A slight widening of the eyes, a sudden halt of breath resumed an instant later, a flicker of the frills on her face, a hitch in her step gone as quickly as it appeared.

He cocked his head. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, Master Skywalker,” she said, her voice betraying no hint of surprise, “but I did not expect to hear such names from you. Darth Nox and the Eternal Empire. Yes, I have heard of both subjects you reference. Darth Nox once appealed to us for aid in her war against the Eternal Empire.”

“I know, I saw it.”

“In a vision?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Daniel explained, “Flow-walking. Observing the past. I was following the path of Darth Nox and saw her war against the Eternal Empire. Including her visit to Voss.”

“I see, continue.”

Daniel complied and told her Nox’s actions to gain the aid of the Luka Sene, their successful attack on Vaylin, and the final sacrifice of Nox. Nara-Ro was silent through the retelling, appearing to be deep in thought, though he could tell she was still listening. Up ahead, he saw that they were approaching her residence. A modest place for a woman of her station in voss society. Cylindrical, like most voss architecture. A stairway led into the open door and other stairwells led above and below to different floors.

“Do you possess an interest in this Sith, or is she a means to learn something else.”

“Mostly the latter,” Daniel admitted, “The history is fascinating, but it was Valkorian who I wished to know more of. Specifically, how he was defeated.”

“Which I suspect was disappointing to observe,” she said with the faintest hint of humor as they descended to a lower floor, “Betrayed by his son and struck down.”

“If only it was that simple.” Daniel grunted. “For all I know, he’s still alive. Hovering somewhere in the Netherrealm. The more troubling implication is that such beings cannot be killed. Perhaps you can give me answers which remain hidden. There have been beings such as Valkorian and Vitiate – they are not normal, are they?”

There was a pause as they approached a small table set for two, with steam wafting from the cups of tea. “I am afraid I am not an expert on the era, Daniel, nor knowledgeable of much history beyond Voss,” she finally said, “Though sheer power does not make one unique in the galaxy, nor in the Force.”

She was definitely hesitant in answering. He could tell from her tone and expression that she knew very well what he was talking about. “Is that so?” Daniel lifted an eyebrow. “You truly know nothing? If you cannot answer, I will respect that. But let’s not pretend your visions only relate to Voss. We both know that isn’t true.”

Nara-Ro took a sip of her tea, seemed to consider something, then spoke. “What do you know of the Force Wars, Daniel?”

He cocked his head at the change of topic. “I believe it is known to the Jedi as the ‘Great Schism.’ Where the Je’daii Order split, with a faction of them falling to the dark side. A minor conflict in the grand scheme of things, but in a sense, they were the first Jedi and Sith. But there is much of the era that is… incomplete, sadly.”

“Mm.” She appraised him somberly. “The Force Wars were far different than your people are aware of. It was not a minor conflict, but a galactic civil war amongst the ruling Je’daii Order. They were not simple peacekeepers, Daniel, they ruled the Core Worlds. Two factions formed and went to war – with the galaxy conscripted into one side or the other.” She pursed her lips. “Yet the beings which you speak of waged war on scales that are difficult to convey. You have little comprehension of how… weak… Force-users such as us are.” She punctuated the end with a flick of her wrist.

An enraptured Daniel leaned forward. “If that is true, then what are they?”

“I cannot say.” She shook her head. “But one such being came to Voss. His name was Sel-Makor. He was a being of darkness, and millions of my species were sacrificed as he absorbed their lives. I have only seen glimpses of our bloody past, but I can only assume another being of power intervened – or he departed.”

“Sel-Makor,” Daniel noted, “I’ve heard the name. Your histories mention him several times.”

“They should. The Barsen’thor smothered his enduring spirit, as the visions showed.”

“I see.”

There was a prolonged silence between both of them.

“However, I believe your fears of these beings are unfounded.” She took a sip from her tea. “They are gone from the galaxy.”

“I’m unsure.” Daniel pursed his lips, but did take a sip of the tea. “You know the one I saw. One of them may already roam the galaxy, perhaps a prelude to more. There are many threats in the galaxy, Nara. The Sith, criminals and warlords like Zann and Fett, and even my own Order at times. Each of those are threats we can overcome. Something like this… I remain unsure how to best succeed. I need to learn more of these beings.”

“And what is it you require?” she asked, “To know if we have seen such a galactic calamity or more of these beings in our visions?”

“No, I would not ask you to share your visions. My request is simple.” Daniel bowed his head. “I merely wish to visit one of the Shrines strong in the Force. Visions have come to me once before, and I trust they may come again. Perhaps they will give me the answers or direction I seek. What you have shared is already illuminating, and I thank you for it.”

Nara-Ro moved her cup to the side. “And are you certain this being is the true threat to your people?”

“No, I’m not certain, but I cannot take that chance,” Daniel admitted, “There is too much at stake.”

Her ember eyes bore into his, an ethereal stare which many found both alluring and unsettling in the voss, yet unlike the chiss whose crimson stare was often cold, there was always something _else_ there. An understanding; perhaps compassion or sympathy. Not… warmth per se, but despite their droid-like mannerisms – especially from the voss proper – he knew the voss were not automatons.

“I understand,” she said, “I have found you admirable for an alien, Daniel Skywalker. You lack the wisdom of the Mystics, yet pursue answers to your visions all the same. More importantly, you seek your destiny while others seek to avoid or defy it.”

“I’ve found that defying the Force has certain repercussions.” Daniel gave a wan smile. “The galaxy has a sense of humor like that.”

“As we follow the vision, it cannot be defied without repercussion.” The Mystic nodded stoically. “It is why I will lead you to the answers, Daniel Skywalker. The visions demand that you have a role to play in the future of the voss, and I will facilitate.” She stood. “Come with me.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, but stood and followed the Mystic silently as she led him to another lower chamber. There was a shift in the Force as they crossed an invisible threshold; there was a quivering intensity to it that had not existed before. It reminded him of a nexus – but somehow more intense.

Not unnatural, but it felt strange for such an unremarkable place.

Though this _was_ Voss – and it appeared to be under the quarters of one of the Three.

The room was dimly lit, and once inside, Daniel noticed that the walls of the room were not bare, but covered in engravings, colored in the traditional voss colors of red, orange, yellow, and blue. They were pictograms that thankfully were not so abstract as to be indecipherable.

Though his interpretation was missing critical context.

One was simple, just depicting a gormak woman emerging from a temple flanked by faceless voss. Another seemed to depict the slaughter of voss at the hands of an unknown assailant who seemed to bear a crimson lightsaber. But those paled in comparison to the larger, more unsettling murals.

One showed a figure in pure shadow seated upon a shapeless throne, the way the mural had been done created an image of light and color being warped and absorbed around the figure of shadow. Before the shadow, with the throne far above as a ruler or god, scores of voss bowed before it, with tendrils of shadow woven through the masses from the throne.

Daniel walked slowly and somberly as he took in the murals and depictions. He stopped when he saw the other large mural. This one made him freeze in place, as a chill settled upon him – because he recognized it. It was him, kneeling in a meditative pose in the robes he had worn in the vision on Dagobah, the vision with the body doubles.

Above him, lines and lines of text were written – in Rakatan. It started out legible and seemed to grow progressively sporadic, shaky, and unstable. The words were written in white over a black shadow which towered over his kneeling pictogram.

**_The galaxy fractures and darkens; chaos and war will rise as what has been built will collapse once more and the shadows will come to consume as they have before and will again. Your Empires, Republics, and factions are beset by simple and numerous shatterpoints. Everything built; everything they hope to achieve and control; it falls apart by the hand of a mortal; it collapses as easily as a human life; the mortal minds are weak, dominated by curiosity and primeval desire. They will succumb to the hunger of the Black Heart; a consequence of tampering with things best unknown._ **

**_The galaxy has stirred in unrest and boiled tension; ruled by the rioting slaves for tens of thousands of years._ ** ** Building ** **_. Growing._ ** ** Collapsing ** **_. Warring._ ** ** Endless ** **_cycles._ ** ** Endless ** **_war. The Dark rises and the Light meets it._ ** ** Cycles ** **_of Light and Dark;_ ** ** reigns ** **_of Sith and Jedi;_ ** ** Emperor ** **_and God;_ ** ** unending ** **_conquests of Republics and Empires. War and peace._ ** ** Over and over ** **_._ **

** They have learned nothing ** **_._ ** ** They have failed ** **_._ **

**_A chance to ascend has been spat upon, and will soon be lost forever. The reign of pitiful slaves is ending, for the_ ** ** Awakening ** **_begins anew. The_ ** ** Formless ** **_rise, and they shall once more face the might of the Infinite. The_ ** ** Elder ** **_shall come to assimilate and prune the rot which has set in the galaxy._ **

**_The galaxy believed to be theirs will be returned to the true masters; for the mortal has failed once more to comprehend the_ ** ** Infinite ** **_. Return to your people. Return to your visions, Mystic._ ** ** Return ** **_to the safety and comfort of what can be seen, knowing your only hope to resist lies in the grasp of shadows._ **

**_It is meaningless to the Ascendant when you walk among the living dead._ **

He read slowly and carefully; unsure if he was reading a prophecy – or a warning. Perhaps both. It… was perhaps the most unsettling piece in this place, if the words were not enough, the fact they were written above a pictogram of him was not exactly a vote of confidence.

The Mystic simply watched a short distance away, her fiery eyes glowing brighter in the dim light.

“What is this?” Daniel finally asked quietly, “What I am wearing is…” he trailed off, not finishing the sentence, though the implications seemed clear.

“I had wondered if we had seen the same things,” she said with a sharp nod, “Your descriptions seemed… familiar. It appears my suspicions were well-founded. I still do not know what it means – but we appear joined in our desire to avert this future for our people.”

She bowed her head. “You are not the only one who seeks answers for the calamities which await us. I immortalize such as warnings to guide my path and ensure the future of the voss. I am of the Three, and I cannot be blind to the paths which will lead our species to ruin.”

“Is this why you have taken an interest in me?” he asked quietly, looking back to his depiction.

“One reason.” She nodded. “You are tied to our potential death. It falls upon me to ensure that does not happen. I cannot say how you end up on this path, in service to this… power. I will have to consider the vision you described to me, but it offers no simple answers. Nonetheless, I believe that you will reject it when the time comes, whenever that may be.”

“And what am I doing here?” he asked, looking around the rest of the room, which was empty aside from a single stand in the center where a cube hovered a few centimeters above.

“To give you answers, Master Skywalker,” she said, gesturing him to stand before the cube, “In this instance, it is important that you receive your answers. To do so, you will follow the path of a Mystic. Of the Three.” Her lips pursed. “I do not share this lightly, Daniel Skywalker, especially with an alien. But the vision is clear, and I will follow.”

“You have my promise to not share what I have seen here,” Daniel said solemnly, “Tell me what I must do.”

“Kneel, and focus on the crystal,” Nara-Ro said as he complied, and she took the cube in her hand and let it float down before him, spinning slowly, “You will not have to wait long. Be calm, and let the vision take you.”

Daniel was not certain how long it would take, but after he focused, it seemed like only seconds passed before the world faded in a rush, and remembering her instructions, he did not resist, but submitted fully to what he was now a part of.

* * *

A low hum reached his ears. Soft, subtle, but there. Impossible to pick out if there was noise, but in complete silence, it came through with piercing clarity. Not an unpleasant sound, but it certainly didn’t sound natural.

Daniel opened his eyes and found himself in a room of glowing gold.

He was knelt before a stairway descending into a depression in the middle of the cube-like room, with stairs descending from all sides leading into a small area just large enough for a pedestal to hold a similar-looking crystal. Although that wasn’t what commanded his attention.

Everything – from the floors, ceilings, and even his own body – was varying shades of shimmering gold and yellow. Were he not part of this… place… he likely would have found the overwhelming color abrasive, and even still, it was a bit much. He could still make everything out with a reasonable degree of clarity, thankfully.

_Well, let’s hope I don’t stay too long here._

Not exactly the vision he had expected, but he suspected it was only the start of whatever he was taking part in. When he’d landed, he certainly didn’t think he’d be emulating a Mystic. He had largely believed that the voss simply received their visions like everyone else, and just had a natural affinity.

At least for some of them, it seemed it was a bit more complicated.

Assuming this was even what it was.

He descended the stairs, checking his belt and seeing that his lightsaber had come along with him, interestingly enough. Once near the crystal, he appraised it for a few moments, and figured that it was probably meant to be used the same way as the one Nara-Ro had. He once more knelt down in a meditative stance, closed his eyes, and focused toward it.

Some time passed – he didn’t know how much – and there was a sudden ripple in the Force.

“You are not voss.”

The voice was deep and permeating; a timbre tingled with an underlying curiosity and tempered with a clear threat within it. The voice did not just reach his ears, but manifested in his head; in every language he knew simultaneously. A pressure immediately built in his head from the overload, though thankfully it was not painful.

Daniel opened his eyes again and stood, and this time opposite him was a figure. Humanoid, but whose form seemed… fluid. The golden skin rippled like water as only two glowing eyes seemed to peer out of the featureless face. The figure stood stoically, appraising him before morphing into a figure he recognized from the older holos.

Luke Skywalker, when he was older and bearded, but nonetheless recognizable. But this was an alien interpretation. His skin was too clean, his body too stiff, and the eyes simple glowing orbs of light.

“No, I am not,” Daniel told the figure slowly, “but I was led here by voss.”

“I am aware of who you are, Daniel Skywalker,” the golden head cocked to the side, the doppelgänger’s lips just slightly curling upwards; but in a way that seemed unnatural. Like a foreign mind in an unfamiliar body. “The _Ever-Shrouded_. _Eternal Watcher_ of the Sphere of Vigilance and Farsight. _Grand Master_ of the Jedi Order. Guardian of _Peace_ and _Justice_.”

The last words were said with clear mockery in them.

Daniel didn’t outwardly respond, and simply gave a slow nod. “If you know who I am, then you likely know why I am here.”

“I am aware of why you _think_ you are here.” The figure paced closer to him, making Daniel wince as he continued to talk, and the pressure in his head seemed to build continuously, “A _grand_ threat to the galaxy, which not only affects the Jedi, but your _allies_. Perhaps even the galaxy itself. You believed it was the Sith. Now you pursue the Force-wielders of old. Curious.”

“Curious.” Daniel noted the phrase. “But not unexpected. You know what I seek.”

“I know _everything_ about you, Jedi,” the figure said coldly as he lifted a hand, “but I digress. You do not want answers, Jedi, you do not want the _truth_. You only wish _validation_. You wish a _solution_. A happy ending to the bleak future which threatens _all_ you have built; _all_ you care about.”

On a primal level, the figure wasn’t wrong.

He did want a solution. He did want a happy ending.

Didn’t everyone?

But hiding from the truth? No. That was wrong.

“Untrue,” Daniel said, staring the doppelgänger down, “Seeking the truth is why I am _here_.”

“Is it?” The face of Luke began morphing. “And what do you hope to _achieve_ by finding your answers? Return to the Council and _end_ the bickering and infighting that has plagued it? _Cease_ the political machinations of both Jedi and Alliance? _Forge_ something which works for the common good?”

The voice was a bitter mockery as it walked toward him, making Daniel step back on instinct as the face completed its metamorphosis into a younger face with curled hair and a distinct scar. Another distant ancestor.

Anakin.

“No,” the figure said softly, thoughtfully; only centimeters away from him as the pressure on his mind built, “You may not be that naïve, but you want to find the perfect solution, even where none exists.”

“A solution does not have to be perfect to be good,” Daniel said in response, “And there is always hope. There is always a choice of what path to pursue – one only needs to know the right one.”

“And what will you do, when you realize there is none? That there is no perfect path?” the hardened figure of Anakin asked maliciously, “When you realize there is nothing left but the paths you loathe?”

“I will follow the will of the Force,” Daniel answered simply, “As it wills me.”

The figure laughed.

“You lie,” he accused with the words echoing deeper, a piercing rumble sharp enough that Daniel winced, though resisted touching his head, “To yourself. To excuse what you know you are, and what you have to do. The Force is not a guide. It is not _alive_. It has no agenda. It commands no agents. The Force is not evil. The Force is not good. It has no will. It has no alignment.”

The eyes glowed bright with accusation. “The living command the Force. Blame cannot be placed upon a fundamental reality of this universe. The Force did not command you to hunt the enemies of the Alliance. The Force did not order you to seek the elevation of the Jedi above all else. You did that, Daniel Skywalker. You are responsible for your actions.”

“I am.” Daniel nodded. “But I’ve changed.”

The face of Anakin smiled; a smile still unnatural. “Have you? We shall see.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I will find a solution to the plight before me,” Daniel said, “I have before.”

“Not in this story, Daniel Skywalker,” the being said in a low voice with a shake of the head. “The time to act was decades ago. The paths the Jedi Order have before it will almost all lead to its ruin. The Galactic Alliance. The Fellan Imperium. Your futures are fraught with darkness, chaos, and war.” The tone returned to bitter mockery; accusatory, “And it is what you deserve. Your people have been allowed to fester for too long. You have turned the galaxy to an ever darkening direction in the name of _security_ and _protection_. It no longer matters what you learn here, war is inevitable. Destruction is promised. Defeat is assured.”

“And how do you know that?” Daniel challenged, “Have you seen the future?”

“More than you can possibly comprehend, Jedi.” The golden eyes narrowed slowly. “The future is not a mystery.”

“ ‘Always in motion, is the future.’ ” Daniel felt the quote was appropriate now, since he wasn’t convinced of the grandiose claim. “And if you believe what I face is futile, then show me how to avoid it. Or do you simply wish to taunt me with idle insinuations?”

The being laughed. “I could show you one outcome, yes,” he said, “but you underestimate the sheer _scale_ of what is possible. In your effort to avoid one future you may find yourself in a worse one. Your drive to avert the future may bring it about.” There was a slight pause as his tone grew more thoughtful, “You know this. Yet you are here all the same.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Daniel said, “This concerns the future of the Order. Perhaps of the galaxy. I need to know what we will face. If there is nothing but war and darkness, then I must face it all the same. You say I hide from the truth? Then show it to me. I will not turn away.”

The being appraised him for a few long seconds. “You will see what you need to see, Daniel Skywalker. No more. No less. The galaxy is about to enter an age of strife, and yes… you will be one of those who can shape its fate – but to do so, you must see who you truly are.” The figure smiled broadly, unnaturally long on the face of Anakin. “Let us see the real Daniel Skywalker.”

The glowing entity waved a hand, and the world around him dissipated with a rush, until it went black.

And exploded into chaos.

* * *

Sirens droned, lights flashed above, and the air was tense with apprehension, panic, and chaos.

Daniel found himself in a surprisingly familiar place – the Galactic Senate building – in one of the many wide hallways. Right now these were barren, and as he walked forward, cane in hand, uncertain of where he was, he looked at the room numbers and signs. Emotions were conflicting and intense as they shot through the Force with a burning intensity.

Pain and anguish.

Shock and terror.

Righteous fury.

Cold vindication.

Crippling fear.

Such strong emotions had overcome him as well, meaning it was a true vision of the future where he was placed into his body – feeling emotions he would have felt at this moment. But he knew nothing of what was coming or what had happened. Confusion tempered all which he felt now.

But the emotions didn’t fade.

He was calm, but it was tempered with apprehension and concern. Something terribly _wrong_ was happening. Not just to him, but everyone.

Daniel read the signs along the walls, and realized he was on the track to the Presidential Office. Beside him was Undien of all people, looking completely stressed and worried. Sweat beaded his face as he matched Daniel’s brisk walk. Outwardly, he betrayed little, but Daniel could sense his roiling emotions of betrayal, shock, and numbness.

“How?” Undien muttered in a low voice Daniel barely caught, “How could this have happened?”

Unsure of what he was referring to, Daniel decided to play it safe and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Undien scowled, an empty fist clenched as his body tensed. “Shartan played us both for fools. Now we pay the price.”

_What?_

Daniel needed to find out what was going on, and very soon.

They turned the corner and saw the entrance to the Presidential Office, with the white and blue soldiers of the Presidential Guard standing outside. There were almost two dozen of them, armed with force pikes and blaster rifles. To his surprise, the guards readied their weapons as they approached, rifles raised and pikes brandished.

“Drop your weapons, Jedi! Now!” The voice of the Captain was tinged with suppressed fear, yet the guards stood unwavering, even as Daniel sensed their compounding fear. It was alien, coming from allies such as them. He suspected that were the helmets removed, the fear would be plastered over their faces and in their eyes.

“Enough!” Undien barked, ignoring the weapons and not breaking stride as he jabbed a finger at the captain who had given the order, “Where is the President? Is she safe?”

“Hands up!” he roared, firing a warning shot that Undien didn’t even flinch at.

“This is not the time!” Undien hissed, though his hand surreptitiously fell to his waist. Daniel also prepared to summon his decoy saber on his waist to his hand. No matter the reason, twitchy guards were never a good sign. “I’m _on your side_!”

“Then why are the Jedi attacking us?!” the Captain demanded, “Why is the Imperium here?”

_The Empire?_

“Shartan acted on his own,” Undien explained with an urgency Daniel hadn’t heard in a very long time, “If you want to live, and want the President to be safe, you _need_ our help because he is _coming_ for her. Now, _where is she_?”

“I’m not authorized to reveal that—” the Captain began warily, the weapons not lowering, before a new voice interrupted.

“She is safe, the evacuation plan is being executed,” a bothan pushed his way past the guards, gesturing with his arms, “Lower your weapons. This is not the time. They are on our side.”

His voice was strong, firm, and most importantly – controlled. A calming antidote to the chaos that permeated the air around them. Interestingly, Daniel sensed no fear from him, only a strong determination behind surprisingly sturdy mental defenses. He could barely be felt.

This bothan was trained well. He must have been of the Spynet.

The Captain didn’t seem pleased, but he complied, as did the soldiers. “Get your Jedi under control, Skywalker. You’re supposed to be the Grand Master.”

“Do you _really_ think we’d be here if we could order them to stand down?” Undien snarled, taking an aggressive step to the Captain, who reached for his pike, “We’re facing a coup, and if they _get_ the President, nothing will stand in their way. We need to get her to safety.”

“As I said, Master Undien, preparations are underway,” the bothan repeated.

 _What was going on?_ A military coup? One that Shartan was involved in?

A suspicion began growing in Daniel’s mind, one which seemed unfortunately plausible. If there was ever to be a military coup, he noted sourly, then Shartan being involved was not necessarily a surprise. At the same time, Shartan was very much a believer in the Alliance. For him to turn on it was…

He shook his head. Something wasn’t right. And the Empire? They were involved, but if there was no outright war… and Shartan would never join the Empire…

It couldn’t be right.

This shouldn’t happen.

Undien was looking around as the guards took positions along the hallways and began erecting portable barriers and localized ray shields. “What is your name?” he asked the bothan suspiciously, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

“Charl Marrowl, Master Jedi,” the bothan answered with an incline of his head, clasping his hands behind his back, “Of the Bothan Spynet. The President allows us to—”

“Yes, yes, I’m aware, thank you,” Undien interrupted, brushing him off as his eyes scoured the guards, “Where is Siva? Did she enter with the President?”

“Not to my knowledge, Master Jedi,” Charl reported, “but I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Of course not,” Undien muttered as he stroked his chin, “She better be somewhere safe.”

Daniel hoped so as well. If there was anyone else who was worth protecting aside from the President, it was the woman who was one of her most reliable advisors. Not especially popular with the rest of the staff, nor as deferential, she was nonetheless an administrative powerhouse, intelligent advisor, and shrewd political operative – all of whom were in short supply.

Most importantly, she was an ally to a woman who lacked such instincts, confidants, and connections.

Not to mention her knowledge of state secrets dating back decades.

Still, Daniel wasn’t worried about the wily umbaran. She had a habit of emerging from dodgy situations unscathed. While the bothan and Undien moved to the back, speaking in hushed tones, he walked over to one of the many holoscreens which were usually broadcasting news stations of various channels and leanings. All were muted, but he flipped one on, because he _really_ needed to know what was going on.

The chilling headline in stark black text sent shivers down his skin.

He was in a moment which would signal a turning point in history – such events which had been devoid in his lifetime. Until now, if this vision was anything to go by.

**_SENATE UNDER SIEGE | ALLIANCE MILITARY AND JEDI TAKE CONTROL OF BUILDING | IMPERIAL FORCES ASSISTING ALLIANCE AND JEDI FORCES | BATTLEMASTER SHARTAN TO MAKE ADDRESS SHORTLY_ **

Footage was playing as breathless commentary accompanied it; Daniel was hardly paying attention to the words, instead watching the surreal scene playing out before him. On the screen, countless Alliance soldiers mixed with Stormtrooper battalions were marching into the Senate building, and intermixed with them were armored Jedi from the Sphere of the Militant Order flanked by legions of Imperial Knights.

The footage was captured from several angles, and not only was a ground invasion commencing, but airships were dropping soldiers, Stormtroopers, Imperial Knights, and Jedi into the upper levels. The guards outside seemed to protest at first, but were either disarmed by the Jedi, stood aside, joined the soldiers, or were presumably killed.

The footage cut away before the violent deeds were shown.

But Daniel knew it had happened.

 _“The Senate went into lockdown approximately three hours ago,”_ one of the female anchors was saying, a wide-eyed human, her voice breaking and cracking as she tried to maintain a professional demeanor, _“We are waiting on official confirmation as to the justification. The Imperium has yet to make a statement, but we can confirm reports of Imperial Knight-Commander Flovan leading additional Imperial Knights into the Jedi Temple. Scattered reports claim there is fighting within the Temple.”_

As the words were being spoken, an aerial feed captured by news drones showed the Imperial Knights marching into the Coruscant Temple, together with more Militant Order Jedi. _“More reports claim that Jedi Temples across the galaxy are also being invaded by Alliance and Imperial forces.”_

Her partner, a male mirialan was similarly shaken. _“We have heard no additional clarification from either Chief Diplomat Undien or Grand Master Skywalker. HoloNet coverage remains cut from the Jedi Temple and Senate Capital, as well as on Jedi-affiliated planets across the galaxy including Ossus, Umbara, and Manaan.”_

 _“We are expecting to hear shortly from the Supreme Commander, as well as the Battlemaster of the Jedi Order,”_ the woman continued, _“We cannot confirm, but as this does not appear to be sanctioned by the Jedi Order, we are potentially witnessing a schism never before seen. We also know that most members of the Jedi Council were in attendance of the President’s speech and are presently unaccounted for.”_

There was footage, presumably playing from earlier as the anchors continued talking, and this time Shartan was in the picture, leading a battalion of Alliance soldiers and Militant Order Jedi up the main entrance to the Senate. Daniel’s blood froze when he saw Lara rush out, as the guards were clearly unsure what to do. Shartan lifted a fist and the soldiers, Jedi, and Imperials behind him stopped, then the towering Jedi walked ahead on his own.

Heart beating, Daniel watched tense as both of them conversed. It was only a vision – but everything felt real, and there was a helpless terror in knowing that Lara stood no chance against Shartan – and that the Battlemaster would be more than willing to punish anyone who stood in his way.

Especially if he was behind what was happening.

It was worse to watch because both of them were so diametrically opposed there was existing enmity. Neither could reason with the other. Neither _would_ reason with the other.

To his relief, it only culminated in Shartan lifting the much smaller twi’lek into the air and tossing her to the side as he signaled his forces to follow him. Shartan wasn’t stupid, thankfully, and he had no reason to hurt her. Even as he saw Lara be restrained by two Jedi, he knew she was alive and safe – at least for now. His heart rate slowing, it dawned on Daniel that he still didn’t know _why_ Shartan was doing this.

What he knew was this was in conjunction with the Imperium, Alliance military, and probably the AIS. The kind of coordination such an activity needed… it was one thing if it was unilateral, but this was in conjunction with one of the Triumvirate, and the military and intelligence arms of another. Such did not materialize out of nowhere. Talks such as these took place months or years beforehand.

Right – he needed to figure out when it was. It had been when the President was giving a speech. It was impossible to tell the season – wait, the date on the holoscreen. A pit formed in his stomach as he saw the date.

**_459 ABY._ **

Four years in the future.

Not good. Not good.

Daniel didn’t know what exactly led to this point, but the fact that it was growing more plausible the more he thought about it, _and_ that it was so soon, meant that it would be difficult to avert – if that was even truly the best option.

Something still wasn’t adding up. Shartan was many things, but he was not a traitor. He was principled in his own way, and held to his own code.

He must have learned something that led him to believe his _only_ option was such drastic action.

 _“We are being told Battlemaster Shartan is prepared to make a statement,”_ the female anchor said, _“Please stand by.”_

Undien and a good number of the guards were now around the screen as it transitioned to show Shartan, still in armor, but with his helmet tucked under his arm standing before one of the many podiums in the Senate chambers. Behind him were Supreme Commander Kenirr, Director Calsyne, the Imperial Grand Admiral Caylin Moft, and a number of other military officials – as well as Palavola, Yaden, and Mateil.

“Traitors, all of them,” Undien muttered, having walked up beside him, though as Daniel looked around, he no longer saw the bothan nearby, “Disgraceful. And the Imperials helping them.”

Ringing alarm bells were going off in his head as he saw the quartet of Jedi – including his friend Yaden. If Yaden had kept him in the dark… Something had to be horribly wrong for the four of them to be in _support_ of this – and that he presumably didn’t know about it.

 _“Citizens of the Alliance,”_ Shartan began in a somber voice, _“this is Battlemaster Shartan of the Jedi Order. As I am the architect of these events, I shall take primary responsibility for what has befallen the Alliance. However, with what I have learned, there was no choice in our response.”_

“Liar,” one of the guards spat.

 _“The Senate has been compromised,”_ Shartan continued, gripping the sides of the podium, _“As well as many known and trusted galactic institutions. As well as the Jedi Order. Your politicians and representatives are criminals, spies, and traitors to the ideals of the Alliance. The halls of the Jedi and Senate have been infiltrated and influenced by the Sith. Hundreds of trusted officials are controlled by the Zann Consortium. Many more have been bought and controlled by outside interests. There was no choice, action had to be taken.”_

Daniel suspected everyone was aware that the Senate was corrupt – but it had been infiltrated by _Sith_?

And the Order as well?

Shartan’s actions were starting to make more sense.

But it also seemed like he was using this situation to execute his own plans for the Alliance – and the Jedi.

_“As of today, the Senate of the Galactic Alliance is dissolved and will be replaced by a temporary council composed of myself, Supreme Commander Kenirr, and Director Calsyne as we purge the Alliance and Jedi of this festering rot, planet by planet, system by system, and reinstitute fair and legal elections when the Alliance is cleansed. Our steadfast allies in the Fellan Imperium will assist in this effort – with the cooperation of every citizen, we expect this to be accomplished smoothly and swiftly.”_

Shartan looked directly to the camera. _“For the sake of stability and putting an end to any misguided attempts at resistance, I directly request President Penaria Oslam to surrender and peacefully turn over all control of the Alliance to us. We do not wish further bloodshed, and all who surrender will be treated fairly.”_

Shartan’s voice hardened, _“But make no mistake – we will only be lenient to a point. Your cooperation is expected. Refusal to comply with the authorities will be met with lethal force. All senators, staff, and administration who remain in the Senate Capital are required to surrender immediately.”_

Shartan was still speaking, but Daniel suddenly sensed something. Coldness. Dark vindication. A fury that just roiled below a deceptively calm surface, like a snake preparing to strike.

Shartan.

He was coming.

“It’s a recording,” Daniel exclaimed in revelation as a wave of cold washed over him, waving a hand to shut off the broadcast, “He’s coming now!”

The lights went off.

“Positions!” the Captain yelled as the guards rushed to their posts, and the ray shields activated as the lights on their weapons were powered on.

The emergency lights came on, bathing the hall in an ominous red light.

The guards raised their weapons. Their fear was palpable as they waited with shaky breaths and wavering weapons. He and Undien took positions near the front. Undien’s lightsaber appeared in the elder Jedi’s hand, but remained unignited. Both he and Undien knew very well that he was no duelist, and stood no chance against someone of the Battlemaster’s caliber.

In a direct duel, Daniel also knew he was not the equal of Shartan.

Daniel’s own was still hanging on his belt, and his real one hidden in his cane. He debated dropping the ruse here and now – not yet, a little longer. A guard coughed. Another adjusted their weapon.

The aura of power was growing stronger. Shartan was getting closer now.

The lights at the end of the hallway shattered. The Force rippled as more lights were telekinetically crushed, breaking some lights, and turning others to flickering lights which sparked in the scattered darkness.

Then he appeared.

A man in armor as black as the darkness Daniel often shrouded himself in. As thick and durable as any worn by the best of the Alliance Special Forces. An eyeless helmet devoid of emotion and mercy looked upon the defenders. A cape of equal blackness fell from the shoulders, which was torn and frayed at the ends.

Shartan ignited the cross-guard saber, taken long ago from the Master of the Knights of Ren, bathing the room in a deep crimson light. Undien ignited his lightsaber in response, the blue seeming muted in comparison to the suffocating red of the flickering lights and Shartan’s lightsaber.

“Surrender,” Shartan stated in a cold voice, made all the harsher by the synthesizer in the helmet, “Turn over the President or die.”

“Open fire!” the Captain ordered.

“No! Wait!” Daniel tried, but it was too late.

The hallway was lit up with bolts and the crimson saber became a blur as Shartan easily batted aside the barrage of blaster fire. Daniel stood almost paralyzed, knowing he should intervene, but knowing he wouldn’t be able to do much. Shartan swung his saber in a wide arc, and thrust forward with his other hand, sending a telekinetic blast that blew the front lines off their feet and threw Undien back. Daniel, meanwhile, successfully anchored himself.

He ignited his lightsaber and moved between Shartan and the guards.

The Battlemaster was undeterred, he continued batting aside the blaster bolts as the panicking guards hopelessly tried to find a weak point. After Shartan deflected a few more bolts, he lurched forward – then screamed.

Daniel had only experienced a Force Scream several times in his life – and knew it was something Shartan excelled at, and had prepared himself – a fortunate decision as even with his protection, it was barely enough.

It was a scream that went beyond auditory. It was all frequencies and none of them. It was within and beyond. He heard it with his ears, and inside his mind. The scream rattled around in his head, threatening to burst it apart if the sound persisted for too long. Guards around him fell to the ground, clutching their helmets or throwing them off as blood streamed from their ears and destroyed eardrums.

Many likely had brain damage.

All were pacified.

Undien had also seemed to resist the scream, as he stumbled beside Daniel, his lightsaber raised.

“Enough,” Daniel said quietly, sheathing his lightsaber, “We need to talk.”

“We have nothing to discuss, Skywalker. Your apathy led to this,” Shartan snarled, though also deactivated his lightsaber and hooked it to his belt with a sharp motion, “The Sith have corrupted the Alliance and Order under your watch, Grand Master. You’re fortunate you’re merely incompetent and not compromised.”

“ _That_ is all you have to say?” Undien demanded incredulously, “You betrayed our Order! Killed Jedi! Killed Alliance soldiers. Killed—”

“ **Silence**.”

Shartan lifted a fist and Undien was immediately pulled into the air, gasping and reaching for his throat with his free hand. Daniel ignited his lightsaber again as Undien gasped and struggled to free himself.

“Let him go,” Daniel demanded softly.

“Why? He is among the worst of us.” With a flick of his wrist, Undien was slammed into a wall and knocked out. “A liar. A puritan. A regressive. An example of the corrupt, self-righteous, and _blind_ Order we have become. Politicians more concerned with currying favor, gathering influence, and profiting off the Alliance than doing what we are supposed to do.”

“And what _are_ we supposed to do?” Daniel asked, positioning to face Shartan directly.

“We are Jedi, Grand Master,” Shartan hissed, “Our mandate is to find and purge evil wherever it festers – be they Sith, criminal, or conspirator. And yet we serve the _corrupt_ ; restrain ourselves to _placate_ the screaming moralists, and _bow_ to the power of credits. No longer. The Alliance has been ruled by the incompetent and corrupt for too long. It ends today.”

Daniel pursed his lips. “This isn’t about removing the Sith. It’s about rebuilding the Order in your image. Rebuilding the Alliance itself.”

“Not my image, Skywalker, the image many in the Alliance believe in – or once did.” Shartan lifted his lightsaber, pointing it at Daniel. “The Alliance is a lie; an illusion; a deception. It is idolized because people do not – _cannot_ – imagine something different. Something _better_. An Alliance that acts in the common interests. An Alliance that _purges_ and _hunts_ evil and brings it to justice instead of being corrupted by it.”

Their lightsabers hummed.

“Many have lost faith in the Alliance,” Shartan said in a low voice, “They trudged through their lives, believing they were trapped in an established system; that change was _impossible_. I showed them the path, _I_ have given them hope for a future which has been stifled under the shroud of corruption. I am not destroying the Alliance, Daniel – I am restoring it to what it should be.”

“How?” Daniel demanded incredulously, “Destroying the foundations upon which the Alliance was founded? Liberty? Democracy? This is not restoring the Alliance, Shartan, this is burning it to the ground and starting over!”

“You cannot build upon a rotten formation, Skywalker,” Shartan practically spat as the lightsaber’s deep hum sounded ominously, “You insist on protecting an institution which we both know has been compromised. Tell me the Alliance can be _saved_ by maintaining the status quo. This cannot continue, else the Alliance will fall forever. I will not let that happen, even if I must destroy and rebuild it myself.”

He paused. “For years I’ve endured people like you, like Uniden, and like Lara deriding my methods; my goals. You insisted on following _laws_ written by criminals, and preached about the danger of _corruption_. I am not _blind_ to the disgust some have towards me, Daniel. But I have been the _only_ one who has seen the truth from the beginning; I have seen that we can be _better_ – others now realize it – and I will not be deterred from bringing about the necessary change. For your sake, I hope you do too.”

“And the truth is what?”

“That the system, that this Alliance, this Order, it cannot be salvaged.” Shartan’s fist clenched as the Force around him rippled, and the barriers and pieces of equipment around him bent under the ethereal pressure. “It must be burned to the ground, and a new one built atop. I am not your enemy, Daniel. Do not make me one.” He paused, before relaxing slightly. “I think you understood this once, and then you changed. You know the truth, even if you don’t want to admit it now.”

Daniel was silent for a few moments. “What will you do with her?”

“The President?” A pause. “She will be arrested, interrogated, and we will determine if she is a criminal, traitor, or Sith – or if she knows of such. If she is not, we will release her with her life. If not, her punishment will be determined by a military tribunal. But she presided over this Senate, and she will not escape her responsibility.”

“The President is a good woman,” Daniel stated, frowning, “She won’t surrender and legitimize a coup.”

Shartan shrugged. “Then she will be arrested or killed.”

“The people will not accept a military dictatorship,” Daniel warned, “You’ll be causing a civil war!”

“I have the Imperium, Jedi, and Alliance military and intelligence supporting me,” Shartan said with a bitter satisfaction, “There will be no rebellion, nor do I intend for this ‘dictatorship’ to be permanent. When we have purged the Alliance of traitors and the corrupt, we will return control to the people. But change will not come so long as the legacy of the old remains. A new order will be ushered in, and I will ensure it is done correctly.”

This was becoming an untenable situation. On some level, he conceded that Shartan was not completely wrong – especially if the Sith were involved – but he couldn’t stand by and support a military coup. That was a line he would not cross.

“Think for a minute,” Daniel implored, “Penaria is clean, I can vouch for that – and she has the support of the people. Don’t force her to resign – let her join your… council. Let her be a part of this change. Give her a chance.”

Shartan stood silent for a long while. “I admit, Daniel, that I was initially optimistic when she was elected. But she has had time to enact change, and has failed. But more importantly, in the process, she has revealed her vision and resolve to be incompatible with what is necessary for the Alliance and for the galaxy. She is too incapable, too naïve, too blind to what needs to be done. Perhaps if she’d been with us since the beginning…” He shook his head. “But it is too late now. She is not an ally; she is a legacy of that which must be torn down.”

“Now who is the naïve one?” Daniel demanded, “Kenirr has poisoned you against her. How is she supposed to enact change if she is being opposed at every angle by the people supposed to help her?”

“Perhaps they faded when they saw where her reforms would lead,” Shartan answered, “A weakened Alliance. Toleration of enemies and threats to the state. Some of her reforms have been opposed for good reasons.”

Daniel scowled. “ _All_ of them? Every single one? I could accept Kenirr opposing some of her goals, but it is no excuse for the outright _sabotage_ being inflicted against her. It is not her being incapable of bringing change, but she is one woman opposed by _everyone_. And you joined those who want to bring her down.”

“She made a fatal mistake,” Shartan’s voice was flat; cold, “She believed that she could change the system from within. That change would come from diplomacy and compromise. That the masses would provide pressure. She promised revolution, she promised a dream which came crashing down when the reality of how this galaxy operates set in.”

He paused. “She is not fit to command the Alliance. She lacks the power, conviction, and will to combat the realities of what we face. In a different galaxy, in a different Alliance, perhaps she has a place. But we do not live in a dream, Daniel. We live in reality, and in this galaxy, reality is harsh and ruthless. It requires leaders who are the same.”

He lifted his lightsaber again, and angled it in a battle stance. “Stand aside, Daniel. This is your last warning.”

The Grand Master stood defiantly. “You would not kill me.”

“I’ve struck down many Jedi today who did not listen,” Shartan’s voice was tight, “Do not add yourself to this number. I take no pleasure in this, but necessity demands action.”

Daniel saw that it was pointless. Undien had managed to regain consciousness, and pulled himself to his feet, blood dripping from his nose and ears as he faced Shartan, his own lightsaber once more at the ready. He nodded to Daniel. A sense of finality settled upon him as he drew his true double-bladed lightsaber – Undien raised an eyebrow in surprise while Shartan cocked his head.

But both Jedi assumed their stances, for once on the same side.

_Imagine this. A last stand with Undien. Couldn’t have seen that coming._

A shame it had taken… this.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said to Shartan, as the blue saber pointed toward the Jedi in black armor, “but I swore to protect the Alliance and those who serve it. I cannot let you do this.”

Shartan gave a slight nod, and his voice was tight. “So be it.”

And as Daniel prepared to cloak himself in shadow, the vision faded just as Shartan charged his direction.

Everything went black.

* * *

When his vision slowly returned, it felt like he was just waking up. He was in a dimly lit, windowless cell with gray metal walls, and was restrained on an upright metal slab. The absence of the Force was the first thing he noticed, a suppression collar resting on his neck. At least it wasn’t an ysalamir.

Regardless, the restraints were going to make escape difficult.

“Was that what you wanted to see?”

When he looked back up, the figure was now assuming the form of Shartan. Helmetless, but still in armor, the entity stared back at him, eyes still blank orbs even though no golden light shrouded them. The colorless, pupilless eyes were rather unsettling.

Daniel pursed his lips at the entity, questions arising. Many questions. “You showed me that.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“You wanted to see your future. This an ending to your path.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Daniel muttered, looking around the room for something to help him escape. There was nothing except a light on the ceiling and a locked door. “It showed me an ending – and I can act to change it.”

“One ending, Jedi. There are many others; many of which are worse for you,” the entity said in a monotone voice, “but you knew he was right. You wanted to help him.”

“You watched me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I know _everything_ about you, Jedi. I know how you think. I know how you act. I have seen you walk countless paths in your life.” The entity approached him, appraising with a clinical gaze. “I do not need to observe you playing the memory; not when I have seen the outcomes before.”

Daniel let his chest rise and fall as he thought, still not fully processing what he’d seen. This entity, assuming it was telling the truth, was… something capable of seeing beyond time itself. The aing-tii had spoken of those who dwelled beyond the veil. Could they be true.

Is this what this entity was?

Nonetheless, he decided to address the first question. “Shartan was… _is_ … right and wrong. On many subjects. The core of him is good; he pursues and enforces truth and justice, and has a genuine desire to defend the Alliance and its citizens.” Daniel paused. “But the ways he achieves this are… flawed. Shortsighted. Dangerous.”

“But necessary.”

“Debatable,” Daniel disputed with a shake of his head, “Necessity is an easy justification. One which can be twisted to support the easiest path – not the only one, let alone the _right_ one. What Shartan did… there were other ways, I am sure of it. Ways I will find. But that was not the way. Shartan is… shortsighted on the consequences of some of his actions. This would have been one of them.”

“Mm.” The entity paced thoughtfully. “Considering my own observations, I am inclined to agree. I rarely explore the outcomes beyond the necessary, but there are lessons to be learned in the past and future. Ultimately, the aftermath matters little to me. The voss will be preserved no matter what happens to your people.”

“The galaxy is more than just the voss,” Daniel pointed out.

“To you.”

“You as well. Otherwise you wouldn’t be speaking to me… whoever you are.”

“You are of use to the voss, Jedi,” the entity said, ignoring the more probing question, “That is why we are speaking. The coming fall of your people will lead to things far worse than the Sith, the Mandalorians, or the other minor threats you concern yourself with. Those must be prepared for. The paths are few, and the odds of victory are low – but possible.”

“And what happens if you fail?” Daniel asked.

“Then I will start over.” The entity looked to the closed door to the room. “Perhaps you will learn something here. Another path that lies in your future.”

Daniel glanced to the door as well, and when he looked back, the entity was gone. He sighed, trying to piece together if this was an elaborate part of the vision… or something else. At this point, there was little indicating this entity wasn’t real. The implications were concerning, but it didn’t seem hostile, even if it had its own agenda.

The hardened door slid up, and to his surprise, Alliance soldiers walked through. But these were not conventional Alliance soldiers. Their armor was no longer orange and white, but black with blue accents. The insignia on their pauldrons was not that of the Alliance, but a different one he couldn’t quite make out.

There was something familiar about it though.

“No sudden moves, Skywalker,” one of them said, as she began undoing the restraints, then brought him down and quickly bound his hands with electro-cuffs behind his back. Daniel complied. If it was real, he would have likely tried an escape, but he was curious to see where this would lead.

The second guard held him by the elbow as he was escorted into a gray hallway. Daniel couldn’t tell where he was from the architecture. “Where am I?”

“Corellia,” the female guard said with a grunt, “Welcome to the new capital.”

_What?_

Daniel kept his mouth shut and kept walking, getting a bad feeling about what had happened. Without the Force, he couldn’t sense where he was or if he was in any danger. But for better or worse, it seemed he would be fine for now. They walked in silence for minutes, down turns, up stairs, and through hallways before they reached a larger, more imposing door.

The male guard inserted a keycard, and the door slid open to reveal a small, office-like room that was spartanly furnished with floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the Corellian skyline. A skyline that was marred with smoke and lines of fire.

Standing before the window as a man in ceremonial attire, which seemed inspired from Jedi robes if those had been altered for more state-like appearances. Black with blue trim, they fit the figure well, and to his surprise, when he turned, he recognized the man. A man he hadn’t expected to see at _all_.

“Take those off,” Alexander Solo ordered the guards with a wave, “He won’t be an issue, will you, Daniel?”

Alexander was much different from the last time he’d seen the one-time Jedi. He was clearly older – much older. He sported a neatly trimmed beard, his hair had turned gray, yet he looked far more invigorated and confident than Daniel had ever seen him. There had always been a quiet self-assurance about Alexander that he remembered, but nothing quite like this.

He was not alone either. There were armored figures around the room – Force-users if the lightsabers at their sides were anything to go by. They also appeared to be Militant Order – though their armor was colored in the style of the guards who’d been escorting him. Helmets obscured their faces, and they did not react to his entrance.

Surprisingly enough, Siva was also beside Alexander, though the steel-faced umbaran did not react either at his arrival.

The guards took the restraints off him, as well as the suppression collar. Daniel massaged his wrists as the Force flowed back to him, wincing as he felt the suffocating pain and suffering of a planet engulfed by war. Thousands dying every minute. The Force crackling and shifting with an intensity he’d never felt before.

Alexander nodded to the Shadow Advisor. “Leave us.”

She complied without a word, and one by one, the guards left, as well as the unknown Force-users.

Alexander seemed to notice his discomfort and confusion at the turmoil the planet was experiencing. “You get used to it,” he said, motioning for Daniel to take a seat before a nearby table, “but I think it’s time we talked.”

An understatement if Daniel had ever heard one. As he moved cautiously, he gently probed with the Force, as well as blocking out the worst of the planet’s pain. Alexander clearly had more control over the Force than he had before – his training had been completed by… someone. A lightsaber – the same lightsaber Alexander had built – hung at his waist.

So he _had_ kept it.

“What happened to you?” Daniel asked quietly, not caring if it would sound like an odd question.

“I suspect you have questions.” Alexander took an easy seat as a war raged behind him. “I took matters into my own hands. I took control over my own destiny. I decided to direct history instead of being a passive bystander.”

“By taking ‘matters into your hands,’ you mean like this?” Daniel indicated the fighting outside, though he still was ignorant of the context. “And capturing me?”

“You failed,” Alexander said without malice, “The Alliance failed. Not that I’m surprised. The Order and Senate have been corrupt for decades. They were compromised and arrogant. The military and law enforcement suffered, and as a result, the Mandalorians humiliated you and killed some of your best. Now Coruscant is but ashes at the hands of the Sith.”

Alexander leaned back, with a bitter smile. “I wish I could say I told you so, but no one was ever interested in what I had to say. Even _you_ didn’t ask why I left the Order.” He shrugged. “Though I suppose that presumes if you were even aware of the truth.”

In truth, Daniel only knew that he’d left due to some disagreements. Shame lingered as he realized he hadn’t even bothered asking if there was another reason. But he hadn’t wanted to press Alexander into staying. The path of the Jedi was not for everyone, and one could do good without being part of the Order.

A mistake, if the sight before him was any indication.

It appeared he’d been taken from one terrible future into a far worse one.

A loss to the Mandalorians? Coruscant destroyed? Alexander could be lying, but he sensed no deception from the man.

How could that be possible?

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I suppose you didn’t know about Coruscant. I don’t blame you, it did happen after I ordered your extraction. You should thank me, otherwise you would have died to a Sith assassin. Or when Vathila invaded the planet.”

Daniel laced his fingers together as some pieces came together. Another mention of Vathila – an important one it seemed. Even as the shock of Coruscant’s destruction reverberated within, he felt he should not be surprised that she would eventually attack Coruscant.

He was more unnerved that she appeared to have not only succeeded, but destroyed the planet itself.

“And how did you know that would happen?” he asked quietly.

“That should be clear at this point,” Alexander said with a raised eyebrow, “I was part of the Sith Collective. When we were still united, of course.”

It was the words he was expecting, but they didn’t match what he felt from Alexander. The shroud of the dark side didn’t hang over the man, nor did he seem unstable, aggressive, or display telltale signs of corruption. Even Shartan was more touched by the darkness – and Daniel likely was more tainted himself.

“You can’t be.” Daniel shook his head. “You…”

“Aren’t corrupted? Not raving about galactic domination? Having a pleasant conversation instead of torturing you in a cell?” Alexander asked rhetorically, a smile playing on his lips, “That was always an issue with the Order. Too much focus on labels. Misunderstandings. Assumptions. So easy to assume the worst of people. No interest in _nuance_. There are as many Sith philosophies as there are Sith, and some of us embrace a larger view of the Force. Oh, for certain there are Sith who are utterly evil and irredeemable. Sith who should be executed and flayed in the streets.” He lifted a finger. “ _But_ I can say the _same thing_ about the Jedi.”

The fingers of his other hand rapped on the table as he looked up thoughtfully. “You know what I found most interesting in my time with the Sith? How _similar_ they are to the Order. Both desire control and power. Both are capable of evil and good. Both are powerful in the Force. The _difference_ is that the Sith don’t lie to themselves like the Jedi do. Jedi believe they are inherently _good_ , that they are _right_ – and thus, any actions they take are justified.”

Alexander chuckled bitterly. “Lies and deception. Maybe they even believed it. The point, Daniel, is that while I may be Sith, I am no worse than the Jedi that made up the Order. You can sense it – you know it is true.”

“Then why join?” Daniel demanded, face hardening, “There are other paths to take. The Quabular. The Mandalorians. Even the voss.”

“None of those reflect what I believe,” Alexander stated, “I am not interested in following the philosophy of such factions. Not when I can forge my own. Free of the bindings of tradition, expectation, and label. I do not eschew power, Daniel; I am not ashamed of pursuing it, not when it is the only way to bring change.”

“You know what the Sith do. What they _are_.”

“I _thought_ I knew.” Alexander raised a finger. “But the Sith are many, many things Daniel. We are not a monolith. But we _all_ see a universal truth – the galaxy must change. It must be _remade_. The only way change comes is through power. We possess power, and thus we can change the galaxy.”

Alexander leaned back. “But not all Sith are created equally. Hence the current…” He waved a hand vaguely to the window. “Conflict. The Alliance, Order, and Imperium are gone or splintered, and now we see which of the Sith deserves to rule. Whose vision is _superior_. I’ve met monsters in my time with the Sith, Daniel. Ones who will do to the rest of the galaxy what they did to Coruscant. Sadists and psychopaths. Not everything about the Sith is wrong.”

So, the galaxy had fallen? And now there were factions of Sith fighting over the remains.

A dark future, indeed.

Daniel was silent for a few moments. “Why did you spare me then? You know I will never join the Sith.”

“It is simple.” Alexander straightened and fixed Daniel with a direct glare. “I want your help. I have taken control of what remains of the Alliance, and many of the former Jedi have joined me. I have made my intentions clear to the other Sith – some of whom are my allies in this conflict. I have no interest in pretending other Sith I despise are my allies. That time is past. We won – now we build our vision for the galaxy.”

Alexander stood and approached the window, pausing a few seconds before speaking again. “I am confident I can win. Vathila and Interitus are warring, and will be occupied for the immediate future. I have time. Time I will use to build a new order that is secure, just, and prosperous before I wipe the remaining Sith out and usher in an age of peace. No more corruption. No more wars. No more tolerance of the evil and criminal. But that cannot be done by following the ways of old. Men will fall without strict law and discipline. Unfortunately, many still cling to the old ways.”

He spread his hand out before the flaming city. “Rebels and rogue Jedi fight against me; misguided attempts to win a war that is over. I am all that stands between the galaxy and the rule of monsters. You know I am telling the truth now, Daniel. The Jedi will listen to you; you can convince them. The rebels will also follow when they see the Jedi leave.”

“I can’t join you.” Daniel shook his head. “There are only certain times I would ally with a Sith – and this is not one of them. Even for one like you.”

“Why, because I hold a title composed of words arranged in the wrong order?” Alexander demanded sarcastically, turning to face him, “Yet you stood by and supported monsters like Tocrum? Warmongers like Shartan? Politicians like Undien? Because they were _Jedi_ you can justify it? Do titles and labels have such power over you, Daniel? If so, you are more weak-minded than I believed.”

The word stung, but Alexander… he wasn’t really wrong. Not if he was being honest with himself. Yet there was something reprehensible about even considering helping a Sith. It was repulsive on a base level, no matter what he sensed or what Alexander said.

At the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Sith before him was making a worrying amount of sense – if he was telling the truth – though Daniel knew deep down that he was.

“You lost the war, Daniel,” Alexander said softly, approaching him, “It’s time for the Jedi to end. This is the reality now. You need not admit you are wrong to me, but do not let your pride blind you from doing what you know is right.”

He extended a gloved hand to him. “We stand in the rubble and ashes of a broken galaxy, Daniel. Help me build a better one. Help me destroy the monsters of this galaxy once and for all. Help me save this galaxy.”

There was a pregnant pause.

Daniel didn’t know what to do.

But he did.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

Before he could make a motion, everything abruptly ended.

* * *

Rain peppered his face. It fell at a steady pace, though the wind whipped them fast enough that it was like he was getting pelted with blunt rocks.

He stood on a battlefield littered with bodies and equipment. Alliance soldiers lay in trenches or buried in mud; killed by explosives, blasters, or fire. There were many burned corpses around him, but there were many more who were killed by a familiar slash across the chest, or were missing limbs or heads.

They were not the only corpses.

Mandalorians also laid in the mud, though fewer in number. At his feet was one in red armor; one he’d just decapitated if the body on the ground and the ignited lightsaber in his hand was anything to go by.

_What was happening?_

A wave of weariness hit him.

He felt tired. Very tired.

Looking down, he saw he bore some light black armor; similar to that which he’d worn when he was the Eternal Watcher. It was battered, missing pieces, ripped, and had been through hell. His soaking hair clung to his forehead as he wiped the water out of his eyes and tried getting his bearings.

To his shock and dismay, Lara was also beside him – she looked similarly exhausted. Neither of them were gravely wounded, but it was clear they were in danger. It didn’t take long for him to see the antagonist facing him. It was a Mandalorian, but not like one he’d seen before. This one bore crimson armor and helmet, with a curious sash on the waist. There were more Mandalorians, but their armor bore different colors and seals; the caped one seemed to be in charge.

From what he could see, the Mandalorian did not wear a jetpack, but instead had a cape that had a clan seal emblazoned on it, colored a similar shade as the armor. But what truly stood out was that the Mandalorian held a lightsaber in their hands. One he’d never seen before, and which called out in the Force.

The color was – or appeared to be – a kind of cyan. But the more he focused on the blade, the blurrier it became. It seemed impossible to fully define the harder he looked at it, and it held an ethereal energy around it and the Mandalorian who bore it. It was a powerful presence, a power he could only compare to someone like Palavola.

More disturbing was that there was something frighteningly familiar about the presence.

“You fight well,” a female voice made harsh through a vocodor sounded. But it was not enough to completely disguise who it was. “You’ve been hiding your strength for a very long time.”

“Alana…” he began in disbelief, trailing off as a wave of stark amazement and horror washed over him. _It can’t be…_

He didn’t know what was more unbelievable. The fact that Alana was with the Mandalorians, or that his beloved great-granddaughter was presumably fighting him to the death. It chilled him to think of what could have _possibly_ led to this point, where both of them were positioned to kill each other.

And that lightsaber… that was not her own. He knew her emerald blade very well; there had been many times they’d trained with it. He’d seen the pride on her face when she’d returned from Ilum, newly forged lightsaber in hand.

Had she lost it? Or given it up?

Where had she gotten _this_ one?

Why had she left the Order?

_Did you do something, Daniel?_

He shook his head, struggling to accept the scene before him. No. This wasn’t like Alexander. He’d practically _raised_ Alana after her parents had died. He’d balanced his duties as the Eternal Watcher with training one of his family. They had a bond, there were adventures they shared. Hours of conversation.

The woman who stood before him, boiling in righteous anger and unbridled power was a far cry from the excitable, ambitious, and kind woman he’d raised and known for years. In a way… she was the daughter he’d never had. A daughter who now seemed to want to kill him. With a motion of her free hand the Mandalorians under her command fanned out, presumably searching for survivors.

Alana began circling him as if appraising an enemy. She was fully outfitted as a Mandalorian. Her armor was pure beskar, and her wrists augmented with the same flamethrowers and wrist rockets most Mandalorians employed, with more improvised tools and explosives on her waist.

_Surreal._

In his haze of shock he wondered where all of these Mandalorians had come from. They knew the Mandalorians were united, even if the rest of the galaxy was largely ignorant, but this was a level of advancement and sophistication that shouldn’t have been possible.

He instinctively brought his own lightsaber up in a defensive stance. He was drained, both physically and mentally, seeing his great-granddaughter like this, and Lara seemed similarly tired. In most circumstances he would have probably retreated long ago, but here it seemed he hadn’t. Impossible to vanish into the shadows now.

Even still he had no desire too now. He needed to stop this, vision be damned. “Alana, stop. We can talk about this. We _need_ to talk.”

“We are past _talking_ ,” Alana snarled with an angry slash of her lightsaber, the Force rippling around her as she flourished her weapon, “Your Order started this war with us! You should have known better, and now you will pay the price for your arrogance, a lesson the rest of the Jedi will soon learn when I send your corpse to the Alliance.”

To hear such vitriolic words, steeped in the deep-set emotions of righteous fury shocked and saddened him. Again, he wondered how the Mandalorians had reached a place where they could challenge not only the Alliance, but the Jedi. And that whatever had been done was so unforgivable that it had turned Alana against him.

_What have we done? What have I allowed?_

A war against the Mandalorians seemed impossible to comprehend. Sure, there were outlaws and monsters who wore the armor, but the united Mandalorians seemed content to ignore the rest of the galaxy and practice their traditions in peace. Even the clan controlled by the Holder of the Heart of the Guardian only kept old and decrepit relics. Though not _all_ old and useless it seemed, if it turned out they were holding more artifacts like that lightsaber. He could see Undien and Taitho making a fuss, but enough to start a war?

_No, it would merely be an excuse._

A dispute was one thing. But open war was a completely different matter. Were Undien and Dal really willing to use that as an excuse? Against the Mandalorians of all people?

There _had_ to be pieces missing to this. Something that made everything make sense.

But with Alana standing before him, as a Mandalorian intent on killing him, he knew that it was likely not a single event which had begun this downward spiral. It must have been many things; things he hadn’t been able to prevent, had ignored, or had simply been wrong on. Worse was the possibility that he had directly had a hand in it, and this was his fault.

Yet no matter the reason, he didn’t want to kill her. He couldn’t.

No matter what had led her down this path, no matter what she had experience, it wasn’t her fault.

He shut off his lightsaber.

“Daniel…” Lara said softly, reaching out with a tired arm.

“I don’t know what happened to you,” Daniel said in a soft voice, “but I won’t fight you. Not anymore.”

“Don’t delude yourself,” Alana sneered, “You know exactly what I endured; what I _suffered_ while the Order did nothing – bowing to the corruption _you_ enabled. Don’t claim ignorance now, _grandfather_ , own up to what you and your Order have done.”

“Then I’m sorry,” he said simply, “We failed you. I failed you. But I will not fight you. Kill me if you must, but let Lara live. I’m clearly the one you want.”

“No!” Lara yelled, taking a few stumbling steps toward him, “You will not—”

Her words were cut off as she was lifted into the air, a hand going to her throat as Alana extended her hand toward the hapless twi’lek Jedi Master, her armored hand a fist as the T-visor of her helmet fixed squarely on Daniel. “I don’t care for your false sacrifices. The Jedi Council will die, and she sits upon it. Die a warrior’s death, Daniel, or stand there as a coward as your lover dies.”

It seemed an impossible choice. He could hurt Alana no more than he could hurt Lara, nor could he see them _be_ hurt.

His hand hovered over his waist, agonizing as his lightsaber wavered; wanting to be called to his hand. Lara needed to be saved. She couldn’t die; not like this. He couldn’t let it be like this. He called it to his hand and the blue blade once more ignited as he drew it behind him.

“Let her go, Alana,” he demanded, steeling himself for what would come next, “ ** _Now_**!”

His last word was accompanied by a thrusted arm toward Alana, which she easily absorbed, though as a consequence, was forced to loosen her grip on Lara – but instead of dropping her, she threw the unconscious twi’lek into the rubble of the battlefield, causing additional cuts and wounds as her body tumbled over shrapnel, broken encampments, and jagged armor, before she was finally impaled on a spike-shaped piece of wreckage.

But he sensed she was alive. There was no time to check as Alana turned her full attention to him, drawing upon the deep well of power she somehow had access to. With no other path, Daniel rushed toward the hostile Mandalorian, and both of their lightsabers met in a clash of blue and cyan.

Within a few strikes he knew he was going to lose.

He was too tired. She was too well-trained. She was too strong.

She had learned well from him. Their duels she had remembered well, and was likely the only reason he was surviving as long as he had. But she remembered how he fought, and every strike and feint he attempted, she deflected or blocked. But it wasn’t just what he had taught her that she used, her actual Master, Derell Qios had trained her in the skills of the Sentinels, in a style which would wear down anyone but a master of Soresu.

She had taught her well.

But what truly worked against him was whatever she had been taught by the Mandalorians. Already augmented by the Force in a way he couldn’t naturally attain, she easily anticipated his strikes and batted them aside, often following up with an armored fist to the face, gut, or shoulder. It was a level of physical incorporation that few within the Order bothered to learn, let alone employ.

It was swift, relentless, and brutal. It was _Mandalorian_.

Even were he at full strength, there wasn’t any time to use the Force – so relentless was the assault. With the last of his strength he blocked one of her swipes, and with a twist, she forced the slippery blade from his hand, and pushed him back onto the mud with her other hand, knocking the wind out of him.

Breathing heavily, she summoned his lightsaber to her hand, and with a closed fist and surge of power, shattered the metal, letting the crystal fall into her hand, which she placed in one of the pockets on her waist. He looked over to see Lara lying on the mud, bleeding out from her wounds even as she still clung to life. With what little power he had left, he prepared for a final defense and strike as his beloved great-granddaughter approached with murderous intent.

“Stand down, Alana,” the voice that sounded through the pouring rain was cold, commanding, and one he hadn’t heard before.

Alana seemed surprised to hear it too, and looked up as the new Mandalorian flew down. Daniel could just make out the emblem of Clan Braton – a stylized military fort. The rain was still coming down, forcing him to strain to make out their exchange.

“I’m almost done,” Alana said in a clipped voice.

“I’ll finish up,” the Braton glanced to the vulnerable Daniel Skywalker, before looking back to her, “Mand’alor needs you now. There’s a situation.”

“I’ll be there, Lega’Las,” she said, taking more steps toward Daniel, “As I said, it won’t take long.”

“It’s urgent,” he said, taking another step forward. “Battlemaster Shartan arrived with reinforcements.”

“Impossible!” He could hear the scowl in her voice. “He’s a dozen systems from here!”

“That’s where he _was_ ,” the Braton insisted, “We need you _now_. Mand’alor needs you now.”

“If that’s true…” she trailed off, seeming distracted for a brief moment.

“Alana, there isn’t time!”

“Something’s not right about this,” Alana muttered slowly, “He doesn’t know—”

Her helmet snapped up as she whipped around, cape flapping in the rain as she deflected a series of shots from Lega’Las. The Mandalorian’s surprise attack was unrelenting as he kept up the barrage before the weapon flew from his hand and his arms were suddenly pinned to his sides. The air distorted around him as Alana held him in a telekinetic grip.

“That almost worked,” she said in a low, seething voice, “ _Almost_. But you made one fatal mistake, traitor. If Javen wants something from me, I _know_ it. I don’t need to be told. Certainly not from the likes of _you_.”

Javen… Panlie? _He_ was this the current Mandalore? The Holder of the Heart of the Guardian? Holders never became Mandalore. Even the vision at the Kathol Rift confirmed that – with Jondum’Panlie only claiming the mantle by necessity. But if that _had_ happened it might explain the strength of the these Mandalorians. And Alana knew him personally? 

Daniel had no idea who this other Mandalorian was, as he certainly had no Mandalorian allies, but he was definitely an idiot for thinking he could attempt to surprise her and _win_.

“Ah…” The man sounded amused. “So you _can_ feel him. You _do_ have a bond.”

“None of your concern, traitor,” she said, and with a flick of her wrist, his helmet was removed and tossed onto the muddy ground nearby, revealing an older man with silver hair and a small collection of scars.

“I’m curious,” the man sounded remarkably unconcerned, “When you feel pain, does he also feel it.” His smile narrowed. “Does Runi?”

She slammed a gauntlet into his face, a direct blow that the man barely flinched at. “Before I kill you, I want to know why you did it. Did you get paid off? Is your honor so absent it’s for sale?”

“Hardly,” the man snorted, “All I needed to do was get your attention. The Grand Master must be kept alive.”

“No, he doesn’t.” The man’s chin was suddenly yanked backwards, to an angle almost dangerous, exposing his neck as Alana moved her lightsaber close.

“My offer still stands,” he continued, “I will handle Skywalker. Walk away while you still can. You will not get this chance again.”

Without another word, she stabbed the cyan blade into the traitor Mandalorian’s throat, pushing it through slowly, letting it linger and smolder, before withdrawing it, and letting the body fall to the ground. But unlike the vengeful woman who had faced him before, Alana seemed more tempered now. She turned to Daniel. “Did you know of this?”

“No,” Daniel began, shaking his head, “I don’t—”

He cut himself off as he realized something essential – he had never felt the man die. Nor, it seemed, had Alana, as both of them came to the realization at the same time. To his incredulous eyes, he saw a very much alive Lega’Las Braton stand, rubbing his throat with a free hand, the gaping wound closing before their eyes. “Ah… Well struck, Alana. Precise. I always liked that about you.”

“How…?” Alana demanded in a soft and confused voice, almost like how he remembered her, as she readied her lightsaber.

Braton’s armor began dispersing a blue-tinged mist that settled upon both Alana and Daniel, coating their armor. A few seconds later, Daniel realized he couldn’t sense the traitorous Mandalorian in the Force.

Braton gave an apologetic shrug, though his smile was anything but. “I gave you the chance to walk away,” he said to Alana, rolling his neck, “Can’t say I didn’t warn you. But we need the Jedi alive, and I’m afraid you stand in the way of that.”

“You came here to kill me,” Alana said in a low voice, beginning to circle him, “Vong tech.”

“Vong? This?” Braton brushed his shoulder, sending a few bits of the mist off before clasping his hands behind his back. “Not exactly. Consider it something that’s been… _perfected_. Like I said, I didn’t come to kill you, but now it seems I have to.”

“We’ll see,” Alana flourished her lightsaber and charged Braton.

Daniel gathered enough of his strength to stand, and watched as the two Mandalorians fought. Braton was easily managing to hold his own somehow, despite not having his own weapon. His gauntlets must have been made or enhanced with cortosis-weave, beskar, or another lightsaber-resistant material – as he was using them to deflect all her swipes. Yet the closer Daniel looked, he saw that the lightsaber wasn’t making _any_ mark whatsoever. No scorching, scarring, or gashes.

Either the armor was superbly crafted, or the lightsaber blade was far weaker than normal.

Despite being blind to the Force, he moved with inhuman speed. His hands were a blur, and the techniques he used were some of the most complex that existed. Not only was he skilled in the Mandalorian combat arts, but he saw echani battle strikes and Teräs Käsi stances, all of which were fluidly mixed together in a combination which would annihilate any enemy.

It was somehow sufficient to face a woman who was among the most powerful Force-users in the galaxy.

Then he caught her wrist in one hand, which he squeezed and twisted. Daniel heard the bones in it snap as the appendage was completely ruined, and the lightsaber fell from her mangled fingers seconds later. Braton sprayed her with more mist from his gauntlet, and kicked the woman back, not seeming to be in any hurry to finish her off as he began pressing buttons on his wrist. Inexplicably, Alana’s weaponry and equipment began malfunctioning.

Her flamethrower began shooting blue-orange fire before continuing for too long and melting the mechanism, and by extension burning the arm it was attached to. The beskar and her underarmor protected it from the worst, but the arm was effectively bare now. With her good hand, she tore off her helmet, likely because it wasn’t working right. Sweat beaded her face and her black hair clung to it, as she looked at the inexplicably skilled Mandalorian who was bearing down on her.

Braton lifted his wrist and another stream of the same blue mist shot toward her, while clingwire shot out from the other one, wrapping around her legs and pinning her in place as she breathed in the mist – or spores, if the technology was vong-based as suspected. She pulled out a small vibroblade and slashed the clingwire. She charged with a shout once she was free.

He didn’t even bother defending himself, stoically taking the direct punches to the face with an amused smile, and even when she furiously slashed and stabbed with her vibroblade, it wasn’t clear if he even felt anything – the wounds closing quickly. He simply waited as she exhausted her strength, her strikes growing sloppier and slower.

“My turn.”

His fist lashed out, slamming into her face with enough force Daniel could almost imagine the teeth getting knocked out. The inhuman speed the Mandalorian possessed was fully turned on the now-exhausted Alana Skywalker. Daniel watched in agonized helplessness, almost feeling compelled to intervene, but knowing it was futile – he was still cut off from the Force.

With perfect strikes and kicks, her joints were broken and limbs left gangly. Multiple direct hits to the face left it a marred, bleeding wreck with the nose a pool of smashed cartilage and bone. One eye was a bloody ruin while blue and black bruises were already starting to show. Daniel even thought the jaw had been dislocated.

But he seemed to have had enough.

His hand lashed out around her throat, easily lifting the broken woman into the air. She hung almost limp in his grasp, barely even able to whimper, her remaining good eye bulging with pain as she stared helplessly into the eyes of the person who had inexplicably beaten her. Not just beaten her, _annihilated_ her. Humiliated her.

And all in the tradition of the Mandalorian. A brutal and unforgiving beatdown. No use of the Force, only physical prowess.

Braton’s free hand went to his jetpack and unhooked a long hilt Daniel immediately recognized as a Mandalorian-style lightsaber – probably double-bladed, given its length. His suspicions were confirmed when an edged lightsaber blade sprouted from one end – though he noted no emitter on the other. Yet the blade was not like one he had ever seen before. It had a deep crimson core, but the outer edges of the blade were blackened like the void.

It had an aura around it, one of unease and pain.

“How…?” Alana barely gurgled out, blood dripping out of the corners of her lips, “How did you…?”

“I thought it would be _fitting_.” Braton’s smile was satisfied, as if he’d just revealed a secret he had wanted to share for a long time. “Poetic. Many Mandalorians have died upon this blade. It is only proper that you join them.”

His tone turned soft; almost mocking, as he angled the blade toward her chest, “This is the way.”

With a single thrust, he stabbed Alana Skywalker in the heart.

Daniel’s hand instinctively went to his own heart as he felt the hot pain before her life faded away. The blade lingered for a few seconds more before Braton deactivated it, and tossed her body unceremoniously into the mud as he replaced the unique lightsaber to his jetpack. Rubbing the blood off of his face with the rainwater, he turned to Daniel, though not before cocking his head at Lara.

“I’m certain you have questions, Jedi, but I suspect if something isn’t done, she will die,” he said, not wasting time as he strode over to Lara’s body, which Daniel sensed was also fading away.

It was slow, painful, but it was happening and he had no idea how to save her. Questions abound, but the man was right.

Still…

He looked over to where Alana’s body had been tossed.

It all seemed so surreal right now.

He felt numb.

The broken corpse was almost unrecognizable.

Braton had pulled out a scanner of some type, and was currently kneeling over Lara as it scanned her body.

“What are you?” Daniel asked quietly.

He was under no illusions that he could fight this person and win, not in the state he was in, and not least because he _had_ saved his life.

Saved from Alana, but saved him nonetheless.

He’d sort out his feelings later, only taking solace in the fact that this wasn’t real, even if the sorrow he felt certainly was.

“An ally, Grand Master,” he said, as he pulled a syringe of some kind from the neck of the scanner and injecting Lara with it, “One you can thank for saving your life. I’m not sure what you were thinking, attacking her like this, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

“No ‘ally’ is capable of defeating Alana Skywalker with such… ease.” Daniel shook his head. “What are you? AIS? GenoHaradan?”

“There we go,” Braton said, ignoring the question temporarily as he pulled the needle from Lara’s neck and stood, “It will take some time for her body to recover, but she will live.” He turned to face Daniel directly. “To answer your question, I do not work for any of the entities you mention. I represent a group which shares the same goals and ideals you do.”

“Which are what?”

“Galactic stability and peace,” Braton answered promptly, “That has been our mission for millennia.”

Daniel almost wanted to laugh. “And here we stand, in the middle of a warzone, on the opposite side of my granddaughter’s corpse lying in the mud. You do not appear to have been _successful_ , be it now or in the annals of history.”

Braton gave the barest hint of a smile, if an almost sad one. “Even we are not perfect, Jedi. We made a mistake. A miscalculation. We believed for a very long time that the Force was something we could work around; that the Jedi and Sith could be subverted and ignored. This latest… _setback_ … this _war_ , has shown we are wrong; and it was something we should have realized long ago. It is time we began rectifying our error, regardless of the change it will bring.”

“Again, who are you?” Daniel demanded, “Who do you answer to?”

“We answer to no one, Jedi,” Braton stated, “There are many things you do not know about, and we have judged you as someone who is capable of joining us.”

Even in the pouring rain and the shock of battle, the implications were… troubling, since it indicated there was a group who was actively working to influence galactic affairs – and it didn’t sound like one he had ever heard of. A conspiracy so secretive none had ever discussed it. One extremely dangerous if what he had witnessed was a standard representation of what they could do.

“And how do I know you are actually on my side?” Daniel asked, “If what you say is true, you have been manipulating us for a long time. Or trying to.”

“I saved your life, Jedi, that may be a start. But the truth is that you don’t know, and we have our own expectations,” Braton admitted bluntly, “You are now in possession of dangerous knowledge, which even you don’t know the importance of.”

“Like the fact you were able to kill one of the most powerful Force-users in the galaxy?”

“You can consider that a demonstration of the Directorate Council’s resolve.” Braton gave a thin smile, accompanied by a short, dramatic bow. “A warning, if you wish, of our capabilities. Understand that if we intended you harm, we would not be speaking – and there would be nothing you could do to stop us.” He looked to the corpse of Alana. “A point I suspect has been made.”

“Indeed.”

“What we want from you is simple,” Braton said, “I dislike the circumstances of this meeting, but we are safe for the moment and I believe you can remember the important pieces from this talk. Put simply, we want the Sith destroyed. Completely and utterly. Do this and we will… proceed further.”

Daniel had heard worse propositions, though he was still wary. This man had killed Alana, after all. “If I knew how to do that, I would have done it long ago.”

“We are aware, Skywalker,” Braton said with a dismissive wave, “but that is no issue. We know where the Sith are. We know their secrets. They will be yours. We expect you to act on them. Do this, and you will be given the means to shape the Jedi into whatever you wish them. The corruption, the secrets, all of what you _despise_ about what the Jedi have become – it can be changed. With our backing, there will be nothing that stands in your way. A Jedi Order worthy of the name. True defenders of peace and justice.”

His voice softened. “It is unfortunate Alana had to die today. It was necessary, but I understand what she has gone through, and what she meant to you. I know there are others you care about, perhaps those who have gone astray. You will be able to not only protect them, but ensure they are never in a position where you may need to kill them – or the inverse.”

It sounded too good to be true; a promise to lure him into accepting a deal with many, many strings attached. Yet it _did_ appear this man was genuine. Or at least he believed what he said. The anti-Force mist seemed to have faded, and what he sensed was honesty. Yet he knew better than to outright believe it, not with a man as dangerous as this.

Daniel looked to Braton’s helmet, which the man had picked back up. “We still appear to be in a war. I doubt Alana’s death will change that. It is a poor time to go hunting Sith.”

“I concur, and this war has lasted long enough.” Braton’s voice turned hard, “Drastic actions are necessary to end it. As we speak, Mandalore is being dealt with, as is the remainder of his officers. The Mandalorians will be broken, and surrender tomorrow. A treaty will be signed within the month.”

“How—”

“Do not ask questions.” Braton put a finger to his lips with a faint smile. “You will gain your answers in time. But see what we can accomplish – and how that can help you. The information we have on the Sith will be sent to you shortly. In the meantime, I have called an Alliance ship to this position to extract you and Master Ritten.”

He cocked his head. “But it is time you answer directly – do you intend to assist us, Grand Master Skywalker?”

He had reservations, and it was clear he had just been drawn into something far larger than even he was used to, but he couldn’t help but feel some cautious optimism – tempered with a thoughtful fear at what these people could do. He didn’t trust this Braton – or the people he worked for.

Yet as he looked to Lara, he saw that her wounds had completely healed through whatever medical technology this group possessed. Even the piece of shrapnel that had been sticking out of her was removed. He didn’t know how… but this man _had_ saved his life, and now Lara’s. Perhaps this was worth the risk – at least in the vision.

And that was what this was. A vision.

One he could learn from.

Or avoid.

“Very well.” He nodded slowly. “I will remove the Sith. We go from there.”

“Excellent.” Braton donned his helmet once more. “Our expectations are high. Good luck. We will be watching.”

Without another word, the Mandalorian turned and departed, leaving Daniel alone with Lara on a muddy and miserable battlefield.

Then everything faded once again.

* * *

He found himself again in the golden room.

The entity stood before him.

“You are showing me all of this for a reason,” Daniel said slowly, “Why?”

“You came for answers, Jedi,” the entity said, once more taking the form of Luke Skywalker, “This is what you wanted.”

“What are you?” Daniel demanded, “You are real – that much is clear. And you have control over visions. That shouldn’t be possible.”

The entity seemed almost amused. “In all the time I have existed, not a single voss has asked me what I am. They never wonder of the source of the visions. They do not consider it their place. Most are ignorant of my existence. Only the Three ever know the truth.”

“But you show yourself to me.” Daniel cocked his head, trying to figure the entity out. “Are you a transdimensional entity? An old spirit? A Celestial?”

“No, I am unique,” the entity answered, “I was once alive and bound to the confines of the reality you inhabit. I once shaped the Force in war at the behest of another, limited in my knowledge and imagination. It is an eternal constant – but there is so much that you do not understand of it, nor of the one I followed. The Force is eternal; infinite – and malleable.”

The entity paced as he spoke. “I came to this planet seeking an enemy. Sel-Makor. When I arrived, I saw he had corrupted the local species here. He was a petty creature only desiring power and worship. What he did to the species was… unforgivable. Irredeemable. Yet his legions were vast and his followers strong. So I acted, turning his tools against him, and remade the aliens in my image.”

“You _created_ the voss?” Daniel asked incredulously.

“A strong word, Jedi,” the entity corrected, “I _remade_ them, free of the corruptive influence of Sel-Makor. Stronger. Smarter. Conduits of my will and power. I _perfected_ them, Jedi, but I did not create them.” He paused. “The gormak were ultimately not irredeemable, as they were scattered once Sel-Makor was defeated, but the voss proper, as you know them, remain in my image.”

Daniel shook his head. “How? It cannot be done just with the Force.”

“You think too simply, Jedi.” The entity gestured around him. “The Force is creation itself. _Life_. It is the power to reshape our reality. It flows through all the living, and can reshape the material. It is more than simple manifestations of telekinesis and lightning. It is more than peering into the minds of others. The Force, Jedi, is capable of many things most would consider to be _unnatural_.”

Theoretically, he wasn’t wrong. But it still seemed far beyond what the entity was implying. “There is a difference between unnatural and _impossible_.”

“I have seen many things you would consider _impossible_ , Jedi,” the entity’s voice echoed as he took a firm step toward Daniel, “I have seen worlds destroyed and turned to husks. I have seen armies be turned to stone. I have seen the Force be stripped of legions, and the Netherrealm be torn asunder by the warring Force-wielders. Your _disbelief_ does not change the truth.”

“Who are you?” Daniel asked once more.

The entity seemed to pause, and then morphed into the figure of a voss proper – though one devoid of any facial markings or patterns. “I am Voss-Il, Paladin of Ashla, the Eternal Changeling, Lord of the Je’daii Order, and the One Who Commands the Force.”

Each title was punctuated with a reverberating echo in his mind. Voss-Il. A name Daniel has assuredly never heard of, though the references to the old Je’daii Order and Ashla – the ancient word for the light side of the Force – were fascinating. This entity was _old_. Unfathomably old.

“And when you created the voss proper, that led to you killing Sel-Makor?” Daniel asked, following the retelling.

“Not completely,” Voss-Il said, “Sel-Makor was strong, and his followers were legion. But I won – eventually. He was sealed away as I prepared to ascend to something greater than a Force-wielder.”

Daniel looked around. “Which I presume you accomplished?”

“Yes…” the entity trailed off, looking around, “At great cost. But I did. Now I exist here; beyond the dimensional world; beyond the flow of time; beyond _everything_. But even through all this – my connection to my creations remains, and through them, my connection to reality. Thus, I endeavor to ensure their survival in your treacherous galaxy.”

Daniel nodded slowly. “Then you can see everything. Every timeline. Every path. Every ending.”

“Are you surprised?” Voss-Il questioned in a droll voice, “Your people have long speculated the connection between the Force and time. You receive visions. You have projected yourself to the past. I merely prove that both are linked, and we can move beyond the limitations.”

“And what is this place?” Daniel looked around. “Somewhere beyond time?”

“In a sense, Jedi,” was the answer as Voss-Il paced, “Truthfully, I do not know what you see. I cannot describe what I see to a limited mind such as yours. Anything you see is your brain attempting to rationalize it – much like if one entered the Netherrealm of the Force and they were unprepared. All I know is that I will inhabit this place for all of eternity.”

“What are you seeking then?” Daniel asked, “Escape?”

“No. Why would I escape?” The entity sounded genuinely puzzled. “Time means nothing to me. It does not exist here. I am not bound by your concepts of such. I will endure, and I will guide the voss to survival.”

“Then if you desire survival and prosperity,” Daniel said, “why have you allowed so much chaos and war?”

“Because I am no god, Jedi,” Voss-Il said with some bitterness, “You cannot comprehend guiding and seeing the paths of one individual; the branches, interactions, and trials even small changes can cause. Multiply these difficulties for a _species_. A species of _millions_. I am capable of much, but even I have limitations on what can be done.”

He paused. “But you are an exception to my strict focus. An anomaly to my interests and plans.”

“And you are telling me all of this,” Daniel said, “Why?”

“Because of all the aliens I have encountered, you are _consequential_ ,” the entity said, “Consequential beyond the _threat_ you pose. You hold more power; more influence than you know. Your choices will influence the fate of the galaxy – and thus, Voss. I will take no chances. I determined the truth will benefit you more than remaining shrouded. Perhaps it will give you hope.”

“Then if I fail, you can start over?”

“Do you think this is the first time we’ve had this conversation? Do you think it will be the last?” Voss-Il smiled humorlessly. “I do not devote my energy to you lightly. I do not care if you share this revelation. Few will believe it. None will be able to do anything.”

“Are you responsible for everything?” Daniel wondered, “Every vision? Every premonition.”

“No. My vision is infinite, but my reach must remain confined,” he answered, “The voss are my conduit. I do not rule the Force, but the secrets of the future and past are open to me.”

Well, that was… good. Daniel felt almost relieved knowing that Voss-Il was a _somewhat_ confined entity. He didn’t know what to think if _everything_ he’d seen on the little odyssey had been determined by an entity like this.

Unless Voss-Il wasn’t the only one of his kind, regardless of what he said.

He was not going to think about that possibility right now. One entity at a time.

“You know telling me is safe because you saw nothing would happen, I assume?” Daniel noted, thinking back to the confident prediction.

The smile of the entity remained.

“What now?” Daniel asked after a few moments, “Are you finished? Did you show me what you wanted to?”

“Almost, Jedi.” The entity stepped forward. “There is one last thing you will see.”

With a finger, it tapped Daniel on the head, and his vision faded once more.

* * *

Night had fallen upon this world of ice and lightning.

He stood on an endless expanse of ice with only the faintest dusting of snow atop it. There was no vegetation; there were no animals; there was no life. Above, in the blue-black sky, clouds gathered and lightning cracked every few seconds, though no snow was forthcoming. The cold was bitter and biting, though that was an afterthought compared to the power and darkness which permeated the planet.

Then there was the heartbeat.

A low, ponderous sound.

Deep and unsettling.

Not heard with ears, but felt in his body. It echoed in the mind and reverberated through the Force.

_Thump-thump._

Pause.

_Thump-thump._

Repeat.

Daniel also realized he felt different than before. Much different.

He looked down and saw that he was in a suit of armor. But not a typical suit, one whose armor was silver and gold, one which augmented his body with intensity and strength he’d not experienced before. Armor which was connected directly to him. More curiously, the Force echoed off the armor itself, as if it had been created by the Force or infused with it.

He felt the Force more clearly than he ever had in his life, and he knew he could manipulate it as he wished with only the barest of effort. It was invigorating, addicting, and wonderful. Sheer power flowed through him, as he felt everything about this planet.

It was a planet of darkness and power. Sacrifice and war. It called those who set foot to seek its heart – and tear it out. It whispered and promised power, and many had died on the path to it. Daniel assumed that was why he was here now. The power it offered was enough to accomplish anything.

_Power to destroy the Sith._

There was something built into his left gauntlet. A crystal of white-purple. It reminded him of a kyber, only purer. Yet it was integrated directly into the suit and there was more power concentrated in it than should seem possible. Yet such power the suit – and by extension himself – appeared to harness. He smiled to himself.

_Interesting._

The landscape had only one structure – a massive, inverted, narrow trapezium, black as night, that radiated with darkness, and from which the heartbeat emanated from. Daniel knew that was where he had to go – and as he realized this, he discovered he wasn’t alone.

“The Sith beat us here,” a clipped voice in an odd-sounding, but clear Imperial accent said, “Unfortunate, but not unexpected.”

Daniel turned to see who spoke, and found himself slightly shocked as he _recognized_ the person before him. Tall, armored in black armor that seemed more advanced than anything currently existing, it covered a chiss man with black hair and the blazing red eyes of his species.

The face was unmistakable. He’d had a very good look at it when he flow-walked.

Cipher Nine.

_How?_

A number of possibilities immediately ran through his mind. Thousands of years had passed. There was no conceivable way he should still be alive. Was he a clone? Had he frozen himself? Chiss lived slightly longer than the average human, but not _that_ long. This could not be natural.

Or was this a quirk of a vision? Showing him something to confuse him? It was not fully apparent if this was a vision of the future or merely metaphorical.

But more to the point, _what_ was he doing here with the ancient Sith Imperial operative?

A whisper provided an answer.

_Hunting._

_There is a mission to do._

He felt that was right. The mystery could be sorted out later, and the planet was calling. The residual emotions of the body he had leapt into remained, and they were calling for the blood of the Sith.

He felt a newer, roiling hatred for the Sith he hadn’t had before. A raw intensity that surprised him – he struggled to keep it from consuming him.

Something terrible must have happened for him to feel like this.

But whatever had happened, the Sith were responsible for it.

“Leave them to me,” he said, feeling assured he could take any Sith on this planet, “They cannot stop me.”

That didn’t sound like something he’d say. But it didn’t feel _wrong_ either.

Cipher Nine nodded. “Then go. I’ll be right behind you.”

He turned, as he pressed a button on his wrist and a helmet appeared around his face from the armor. With a muted flash, he vanished from sight as his cloaking field activated – though Daniel could still sense the shrouded chiss through the Force. He turned back to the structure before him, and saw a transport a short distance away from it.

The Sith transport?

A good place to start.

He marched toward the transport, knowing there was no need for stealth. No matter what they had to defend, it would not be enough. He could sense the defenders of the ship now, they had seen him, and were moving to confront him. He saw them now, armored in red plates in the style of the old Imperial Guard of Palpatine and the Praetorian Guard of Snoke.

They appeared more inspired by the latter, as many of them held melee weapons augmented with lasers and lightsaber technology as well as blasters. Leading them was a woman in black armor and robes who ignited a cross-guard saber in her hand, calling the defenders to attack.

Her rallying cry was lost in the wind. Ultimately pointless.

This would not be difficult.

He lifted a hand, and the weapons of the defenders all flew toward him, clattering away on the ice. With the other hand he blasted them back into the ship with a telekinetic push powerful enough to crack their armor and skulls. Some died from the blunt trauma, as the force of the throw was strong enough to severely dent the ship and trap their bodies in jagged metal. Others were merely stunned or managed to cushion themselves.

Daniel reached toward the ship, and encased it in his grip as the crystal in his gauntlet glowed. The metal warped and snapped as he crushed it, lifted it into the air and then slammed it down upon the survivors. Most of them, anyway. A few struggled to stand as he continued marching forward.

The heartbeat grew more intense.

His vision flickered as a memory assaulted him; one from this timeline it seemed.

_Worlds in ashes and ruins; ones he knew, ones he did not. Bombardment of planets, worlds doused in poisonous fumes and chemicals. Ones left barren by rituals of the ever-hungry Sith. Flashes of red lightsabers as they massacred soldiers, civilians, and Jedi. The defenders scattered and weakened._

_No chance. No hope._

_Only death._

Only fair that the Sith now found themselves feeling the same.

One of the guards in red pulled out two curved augmented knives. They were dropped once his armor caved in on him from a clenched fist, leaving him to bleed out on the ice. The female Sith had recovered her lightsaber and leapt toward him. Daniel let her, there was something he instinctively knew about the armor that justified his apparent carelessness.

She swung toward his chest, and the lightsaber bounced off without a scratch. With a gesture Daniel froze her in place, taking his foot and slamming her to the ground, pinning her as with one hand he grabbed the wrist that held the lightsaber and ripped up with spray of red, disarming her while with his other hand he used a Force push to turn her head into a red splat on the ice before she could scream.

All dead.

He marched onward.

The heartbeat intensified.

Such brutal ways of death were… it wasn’t how he did things. Unnecessary. Gratuitous.

_But deserved._

_They have done far worse._

_Retribution is due._

_Justice._

More memories flashed.

_Shartan, weakened and isolated, surrounded by the corpses of fallen Jedi and Sith alike, standing against a massive creature in a mask of Revan who relentlessly punished him. Blow after blow landed. He fell buying time for survivors to escape. The Temples across the galaxy burned as the Sith legions struck._

Daniel grit his teeth.

_Remember what led you here._

He kept marching, even as he remembered more and more.

_It happened suddenly. Without warning. Meetings, gatherings, trainings, places of comraderies and friendship. Then as one, friends struck down by lightsabers and suffocated by the Force by traitors whose masks slipped, revealing their true nature. A piercing blue beam he had barely avoided before striking the traitor down._

_More were not so lucky._

The anger he had suppressed since the vision had started became harder to resist.

_He stood in the ruins of the Temple of Ossus. Bodies of Jedi and Sith lay scattered. Allies and friends. Yaden and Pon. Padawans and children dead on Yavin 4. Him kneeling on the ground with Lara’s corpse in his arms. Places of life and love perverted by horror and death._

_They took everything._

_They deserve nothing._

The wind whipped and blew flurries of snow toward him, the cold an afterthought compared to the burning emotion he felt. Ahead there were more Sith emerging from the structure, all in the same robes as the previous Sith.

“Your path ends here, Jedi…” the leading Sith began before trailing off as he saw the imposing Jedi approaching.

Or perhaps it was what he felt that caused him hesitance.

The numerous Sith ignited their own crossguard sabers and began encircling him.

Daniel lifted his hand and called his lightsaber to it. But it was not the lightsaber he knew. This one was different. Remade. It fit perfectly, clearly designed by his own hand, yet it was made of different materials of dark gray and black. He ignited it, and every eye was drawn to the blade of the void.

Reality seemed to waver and flicker as the blade hummed in a low, alien sound that drowned out everything else. The black core of the lightsaber had the faintest of white outlines and crystalline spiderwebbing over the blade of darkness that continuously shifted. It was alluring and maddening, and more than one Sith was already enraptured by the blade.

They stared into it almost with longing as it warped their minds.

With a dash, Daniel charged forward and sliced upward toward one of the enraptured Sith, and it sliced through him with no effort or resistance whatsoever. But instead of cauterizing the wounds, it simply slashed through. Blood and bodily fluids spilled and flopped as Daniel immediately moved to the next one.

A spray of blood followed as another Sith was decapitated.

The leader, who wasn’t fully enraptured by the maddening weapon, slashed forward with his own blade which Daniel met. The crimson blade seemed to be leeching into the black core the longer their blades locked, warping around it as the Sith breathed heavily, looking away to avoid the maddening call of the dread spectacle.

With lightning speed, Daniel slammed his gauntleted fist into the masked face of the Sith, shattering it and caving in his nose, then bisecting him with a slash once he stumbled back. More Sith tried charging, though their motions were sluggish and futile. With a flick of his fingers, he broke the spine of one, and tossed him to die on the ice. Two more succumbed to the black blade.

One tried running. Daniel pulled him back and decapitated him.

Another tried a futile assault and was cut into several pieces.

One more threw his weapon on the ground and fell to his knees in surrender, raising his hands up as he said words Daniel didn’t hear, and shed tears he had no sympathy for.

_Jedi captives were lined up, mixed with others. Most were executed on the spot, others had their deaths prolonged to the sounds of taunting Sith. Some were taken away. None were given mercy, for this was all the mortal enemies of darkness deserved. Pain, humiliation, and death._

_Not necessarily in that order._

Several swipes of the blade left the Sith dismembered, with his torso bleeding out onto the ice. He would die, but it would not be instant. He turned to see the final Sith fleeing. He had nowhere to flee to, he just ran. Ran onto the ice and away from the being who had exterminated his brethren.

He was almost out of reach.

Almost.

_No Sith shall live._

_Not after what they have done._

He deactivated the lightsaber, and the sounds of the world returned to normal. He raised his hand toward the fleeing Sith and his fingertips sparked before a stream of blue-purple lightning shot from them. The lightning engulfed the Sith, and Daniel prolonged the stream of power until the Sith ceased moving.

It was shocking for him as well.

Lightning was a tool of the dark side.

Yet he did not feel guilt. He did not feel like it was wrong.

If anything, he felt the opposite.

_Natural._

_Justified._

_Thump-thump._

Pause.

_Thump-thump._

Repeat.

No one stopped him as he entered the structure. Cipher Nine was presumably behind him, assuming he had not simply gone ahead. Old statues were crumbling and the cracked paveways indicated this had once been a grand temple. Perhaps to the Sith, perhaps to something older. The faces of the statues were of many species in robes, though too crumbled to make out details.

Along the way, he encountered bodies of the red-armored soldiers and Sith. Some succumbing to projectiles. Others half-eaten by some kind of nanoweapon. It seemed Cipher Nine hadn’t been idle. There were still more in the crumbling temple, and a few who were still dying on the frozen floors.

The walls of the temple were made out of what seemed to be a reflective obsidian, many of which were cracked and with layers of dust and snow clinging to them. Yet in some, he could see the faint reflection of himself and others as they walked. At one time, this place would have been imposing and grand.

Now it was a relic. A place long abandoned.

A few more teams of Sith tried to dispatch him.

They were also destroyed.

_As it should be._

He continued onward.

_Thump-thump._

Pause.

_Thump-thump._

Repeat.

There was a chamber ahead now in the stone hallways. One where an ominous crimson light glowed. There was another Sith who stood in front of it – who’d been kneeling, though he stood as Daniel approached. He was different than the others, wearing similar black robes though these were laced with red and gold. He lacked a helmet, though his face was shrouded in darkness.

The heartbeat was more intense than ever.

“You’ve been busy, Skywalker. Those were some of my best.”

He was tempted to destroy the man there and then, but he resisted. He was curious.

“You should have prepared them better.”

“Perhaps,” the man admitted, “I don’t know what happened to you, Skywalker.”

“You underestimated me.”

“A mistake that will be corrected.” The Sith nodded behind him. “You’re here for it, aren’t you? I wouldn’t take it.”

Daniel gestured as the lightsaber of the Sith flew from his belt and stuttered into pieces. “That is not for you to decide, Sith.”

“Even I have my limits, Jedi,” the Sith said with a shake of his masked head, “If you take what is in there, there is no going back. Everything you hate about us, you will become. You don’t want that – nor do I. What is in there is…” He shook his head. “Unnatural. Kill me if you must, but I will not become a monster for even the power it promises.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes and blasted the Sith with lightning, sending the gasping man to the ground, his robes and skin smoking. “You are _already_ a monster, Sith. Do not _lie_ after what your kind have done!”

Another blast of lightning slammed into the writhing Sith, setting his robes on fire. His exposed skin burned and warped as the smell of cooked and burnt meat filled the air.

The shaking Sith tried crawling away.

Daniel calmly walked beside him, aimed toward the small of his back, and fired another stream of lightning that sent a final jolt through his body before he finally went still. Daniel ceased the stream, and stepped away from the now-burning corpse.

The heartbeat was loud. Close.

He took a deep breath.

Something caught his eye, one of the many reflective panes along the wall. This one was mostly intact though, and there was dust built up on it. He approached, following a feeling, and with his hand he brushed it off and saw himself for the first time since in this vision.

In some ways, he looked healthier. His skin was a normal pale, his hair was full and trimmed, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, he had none of the wrinkles and telltale signs of age. But as he stared into the reflection, two irises of fiery yellow stared back at him. Eyes filled with vengeful fury and anger.

Hatred.

Power.

Desire.

The overpowering sound of the heartbeat seemed to briefly fade, as for the first time since he’d been in this vision, a fugue lifted, and he saw himself without the lens of the visions and residual emotions of the hell he had endured through this timeline’s past.

He looked to his hand that had shot lightning. To the corpse of the Sith he had tortured before death. To the lightsaber he now wielded.

All before turning back to look at himself and see that the yellow eyes remained.

Then they slowly returned to normal as the horror and dread of what he had done – and what he had become – set in.

Then everything faded once again.

* * *

He was once more back in the golden room.

Voss-Il was still standing in front of him. Daniel took a deep breath, feeling relieved to be… normal… again, but at the same time, he knew that _normal_ was relative. What he had felt was real, and it shook him.

The entity allowed a short time of reflection, then spoke, “You did not question it, did you?”

There were several things that could refer to. But no matter what it was, the answer was still the same. He shook his head. “No.”

“It felt right, didn’t it?”

“It did.”

Voss-Il nodded once. “It did not take you long before you remembered what you endured in that time, and through memory, you were able to justify what you became. A sequence of the wrong events is all it takes to become changed. And in all cases, it is natural; it is a path. Individuals are capable of becoming anything – it merely requires the right circumstances.”

He appraised Daniel closely. “No one is immune to change, Daniel Skywalker. Many fall and do not believe they have. Some believe they fall when they have not. Individuals are complex, and excellent at rationalization. Many times, they are not even wrong. Because as you know, none are the villain of their own stories.”

Daniel gave a single nod. “Something we should remember.”

“Alexander was correct about something when it comes to you,” Voss-Il said, “You ascribe too much value and assumption to labels. Labels are crude. They are simplification. They are excuses. Justifications. It is not Sith who often deal in absolutes, it is the Jedi who do so as well. It can be ascribed to all manner of factions and tribes. Us against them. Easier. Simpler. But not sustainable.”

“Not if we want to move beyond… this.” Daniel sighed. “I’m curious. Can it ever end?”

“You will need to be more specific.”

“These cycles…” Daniel motioned with his hand. “Jedi. Sith. Republics. Empires. It seems like the galaxy is trapped in it. The Old Republic was an anomaly, and even that didn’t last forever.”

“End? Of course,” Voss-Il said in a somber voice, “but many do not end the way you wish. In some cases it is replaced with something worse. There is no simple solution, Jedi. I cannot give you what you want – but I can make you understand what is necessary to avoid the worst paths before you.”

Daniel gave a faint chuckle. “All you’ve done is leave me with more questions. I have no idea what to do now. There are too many things to consider; too many threats.”

“It may not be clear now, but I suspect that will change,” Voss-Il said with an incline of the head, “You have seen what you need to. Do not become so concerned with the literal. Consider what you experienced beyond the future. The ties between it all. I cannot assure you of your ultimate fate, Jedi, but I have allowed you to see what you need to. However, your journey is not yet over.”

“And what is left?” Daniel wondered with a sigh, “I’ve gone as far as I can go. The Council – or at least those I trust – need to begin acting. I have likely spent too long pursuing answers as it is.”

“You will understand shortly,” Voss-Il assured him, “You will awaken now, and your path will be provided to you.”

Daniel sighed. “Very well. I suppose I will not see you again.”

The entity gave a thin smile. “The future holds many possibilities, Jedi. It is not impossible we will converse again.”

“Then I hope we do.” Daniel gave a short bow. “It was an honor to meet you, Voss-Il. You have given me much to think about.”

“May the Force serve you well, Daniel Skywalker.” Voss-Il raised a hand as his vision faded once more. “And do not believe that there is no hope for the future. It merely belongs to those who forge it.”

* * *

It seemed to be the one vision he saw that appeared peaceful from the moment he emerged into it.

Sitting on a couch in an open living room, with Lara seated beside him. To his mild amusement, she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, one of her lekku draped over his other shoulder. The mild wave of tiredness that swept over him indicated that he’d been sleeping as well. Or was going to sleep.

He was tempted.

There was silence, but it was a peaceful silence. One which didn’t feel foreboding or tense. He was almost expecting a sudden attack. Perhaps the windows – streaming in with bright sunlight – would explode from an airstrike. Maybe there was going to be a Sith or another immortal Mandalorian that walked through the door.

Yet he sensed nothing.

It just seemed like he was enjoying an afternoon with the woman he loved. Maybe this was a glimpse of a retirement he was never going to be able to have. Perhaps Voss-Il putting some light at the end of the very dark tunnel he had just experienced. After everything he’d seen, he was more cynical about his chances of a happy future.

He appreciated the thought nonetheless.

Interestingly, he wasn’t wearing Jedi robes or attire, nor was Lara from what he could see. Just dressed like regular civilians. He did see both of his lightsabers hung up on the wall – a remnant of their Jedi heritage, even if it seemed they were no longer part of the Order.

That would be the day. A day where he felt good enough leaving the Order to someone he could trust and the galaxy was no longer threatened by the shadows.

Ah, one could dream.

He might as well enjoy this dream while it lasted.

With his arm already around her, he adjusted his body to pull her a little tighter as he decided to get some rest too. But just as he closed his eyes, there was the high-pitched voice of a young adolescent. “Mooom! I need help.”

Lara groaned and buried her face in Daniel’s chest as he opened his eyes and saw a young twi’lek girl striding toward them, with a pout on her face. His first delusional thought was _‘Wow. How did we manage to do that?’_ until reality set in and he thankfully realized that they had not, in fact, somehow produced a twi’lek-human hybrid.

She had a striking complexion. The skin of her face and hands was a pale purple or mauve, while her small lekku were a eye-catching tyrian, broken up with uneven stripes of the primary mauve. The deep violet of her lekku was a color Daniel couldn’t recall ever seeing on a twi’lek before. Though he had _heard_ of a band of brutal twi’lek criminals who were said to bear the atypical color. A brief flicker of unease appeared as he wondered as to the origins of the girl.

She was very young, couldn’t have been more than six or seven. But he relaxed as he looked a bit closer. She definitely wasn’t born of Lara, or honestly, anyone else he could think of. She didn’t resemble anyone he knew, at least. Perhaps they’d been the ones to rescue her.

That was a preferable thought.

“I’m sleeping, Danara,” Lara said in a muffled voice, “Ask your father.”

“But you’re _right here_.” She crossed her arms. “And you promised to help.”

“He’s here too…” Lara grumbled.

The girl just glared at the woman without another word.

Lara straightened and yawned, and took a paper the young girl had been holding. “Alright, I’ll look this over and I’ll come help you. Deal?”

“Deal!”

In their retirement, Daniel mused as Lara woke herself back up, they appeared to have adopted a twi’lek girl. Was that something they’d do?

A few seconds of extra thought confirmed that was _exactly_ something they’d do. He wondered if she was a war orphan they’d encountered, perhaps one from the many conflicts that lay in their future.

“I don’t know why she always comes to me,” Lara said as she looked the paper over, “Do I have ‘math expert’ written on my head?”

Daniel smiled and leaned back into the couch. “Maybe she likes you better.”

“I’m sorry, whose back does she ride on all the time?” she retorted.

“Okay, okay.” Daniel leaned back up. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

It was a standard math homework document. He was surprised to see the Naboo insignia on the upper corner, but even more surprised when he saw just below it. He looked at the name the girl had written at the top of her homework and did a double-take. “ ‘Danara’skywritten’?” he asked incredulously, eying Lara as if she were insane, “Really? That’s what we named her?”

“Hey! You are _not_ allowed to complain about a name that _you_ chose,” Lara countered, “It’s a bit late to be having second thoughts.”

“Fair point,” he conceded, wondering what exactly had possessed him to choose _that_ name of all things. Although… there was something a little endearing about it. Just a little bit.

They both looked over the homework, each easily figuring out the solution, and then debating how best to explain it to their daughter. The longer it lasted, the more Daniel was certain that there was no hammer that was going to drop; there was going to be no dark surprise waiting. It was simply going to continue.

After all of the bleakness and horror he’d seen, he wished it could last forever.

So he was determined to make the most of it. For a few hours, he talked with Lara, played with his adopted daughter, and even shared a meal them, before finally tucking Danara in and going to bed. He knew when he closed his eyes, it would end, but that was something he had accepted.

It was worth it.

For even a short while, he’d been reminded of what it was like to have a family. No secrets, no threats, no wars. Just happiness, contentment, and love.

And this ending was something worth fighting for.

His eyes closed, and he returned to his own body.

* * *

Despite being in a trance for what seemed like hours, Daniel felt exhausted as he awoke, yet at peace.

Nara-Ro was waiting as he rubbed his eyes and pulled himself to his feet.

“Tea?” she asked, offering a mug.

He nodded and took it, absentmindedly realizing he was famished as well.

“How long was I…” He nodded back to the crystal. “There?”

“Nearly six hours,” she said, “I trust you saw what you needed?”

Daniel took a sip before answering, “I think so. I saw… much. I will need to think and mediate on it more.” He paused. “You know of the being who was there?”

“Yes.”

“Can he be trusted?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll work with that for now,” Daniel said, handing the mug back to her, “I thank you for your hospitality, Nara-Ro. I will not forget it, and should you ever need my assistance or that of the Order, you will have it.”

“The offer is appreciated, Master Skywalker.” She inclined her head. “If such is required, we will remember. Will you be spending more time on Voss? You appear tired. There remain many rooms in the Shrine of Healing.”

“Your kindness is appreciated, but I cannot stay longer,” Daniel said as they ascended the stairs, “If there was one thing I learned, it is that I have less time than I expected. I cannot delay. I must return to the Order and act on what I know. I do not know all I wished to… but I know enough.” He gave a wan smile. “I’ll sleep in the X-wing.”

“One day will make little difference, Master Skywalker,” she insisted, “You are disquieted; you have seen much. You should reflect on what you have seen, and not rush to puzzle out your answers. Little good will come from simple reaction.”

Daniel sighed, realizing she had a point. He was, admittedly, exhausted, and logically, she was right that the galaxy wasn’t going to come crashing down if he stayed an extra day. The Shrine of Healing would be a reasonable place to reflect and rest. He felt drained – emotionally and physically.

He wished Lara was here now.

This solitary journey was… lonely. It was something he knew he had to do, and had thought it would be easier on his own. It had turned into something far longer and larger than he’d expected, but that only told him he was doing the right thing. Still, he wished that someone had come on this journey with him.

It would be nice to have someone to talk to about all of this.

“There is a shuttle nearby,” Nara-Ro said, “It will take you to the Shrine. The Guardians will know who you are and will not accost you.”

“I will do my best to not disturb them.” Daniel inclined his head. “I thank you once more for accommodating my visit. I suspect I will not stay more than a few days longer. I do not know if we will see each other again for some time.”

“We will not speak once you leave here,” she said with a simple assurance, “but we will when you return again. Know that you are always welcome on Voss.”

“Then until next time, Nara-Ro,” he said, with a final bow, “May the Force be with you.”

With a final hand raised in farewell, the Mystic watched him walk away toward one of the shuttle platforms that would take him to the Shrine. It was, Daniel realized, somewhat fortuitous that she had suggested he stay there. In addition to a place strong in the Force to rest and reflect, there was one more thing there.

A place he had visited before, but one which now had new meaning.

* * *

The Shine of Healing was one of the oldest places on Voss. Perhaps in the galaxy.

For as long as the voss had existed, so had the Shrine. It had always been a place of power; texts and histories were vague and unclear, but Daniel suspected that it had been built within a Force nexus. One popular theory was that this was where the first Mystics had been born and received their visions by communing in the nexus.

With the revelation of Voss-Il, that theory was no longer viable, but there certainly _was_ something about the Shrine which Daniel believed was a cornerstone to their society. A massive temple made out of carefully hewn stone which remained immaculately maintained and preserved thousands of years later, it was a site whose importance to the voss would never fade.

As he walked along the stone steps, the power already flowing into him and reenergizing his body, he saw the many beings within it. There were many voss of both races, of course – meditating, training, and resting. It was a place where any voss could come and rest without suspicion or question.

But there were also a good many aliens who rested in the halls as well. The stories of miracles which took place in the Shrine spread throughout the galaxy, and while most dismissed them as HoloNet rumor and superstition, and fewer still risked the journey to the outlying planet. The ones who did, came and were healed of their wounds and illnesses.

It was something everyone who knew the truth marveled at. People on the brink of death, suffering from incurable diseases, or experiencing a slow and inevitable demise came to the Shrine, and were, without exception, cured. In fact, they left in the best shape of their lives, and medical scans taken revealed that whatever the voss had done had bolstered their immune systems to the point where they were virtually incapable of getting sick again.

Today though, Daniel was not here to be healed, but to visit a place of reverence in the Shrine.

He descended further down the wide and thick stones, lit by soft orange lights as Mystics and robed voss passed him by, and the handful of Guardians of the Shine looked at him for a few moments before returning their focus to their duties.

The Shine was not just a place of healing, but deep within it, lay the bodies of many voss. Daniel wasn’t clear on who was laid within the stone tombs that extended far beneath the Shine, but he knew that revered figures were laid to rest, including every member of the Three, and voss who distinguished themselves.

Along with a single outsider.

He’d visited this tomb before, though previously thought it a curiosity. But now having retroactively seen her, and knowing more about what she’d done, it was of far more interest to him now. The tomb was relatively plain, like all the rest. The voss did not differentiate between status. All were buried equally, with a simple stone tomb and a plaque before it.

**_AILON TOLGAN, BARSEN’THOR, VESSEL OF THE VISION, UNITER OF THE RACES, AND FRIEND OF THE VOSS_ **

The voss rarely had friends. At least with outsiders. It took much for them to consider an outsider as anything more than an ally at best, or a subversive element at worst. So for Tolgan to not only be considered a friend of the voss as a whole, but to be buried in the Shrine of Healing – the sole alien to be buried within it – said this was a very special woman indeed.

“An extraordinary individual,” a voice said, “We owe much to her.”

“Rare to hear that from a voss,” Daniel said, turning to the voice which came from a robed Mystic who’d walked up beside him, “Especially in relation to an outsider.”

“Indeed, it is.” The Mystic nodded. “Yet she accomplished what we could not. But she was different from outsiders in that she gave herself to the vision. She was as voss as an outsider could be, and we honor her for it.”

Daniel simply nodded.

The Mystic did not leave, but instead spoke again, “I will leave you to reflect, Master Jedi, but I must deliver this to you first.”

Daniel frowned, but then remembered Voss-Il’s vague statement that his journey was not ended yet.

The Mystic handed him a small card, before bowing. “You will know what to do next. Farewell, Jedi.”

Without waiting further, the Mystic turned and walked away, leaving Daniel holding the card. He glanced down and read what was on it. A series of coordinates, and a name for what he presumed was a planet.

**_Athiss._ **

It seemed vaguely familiar, but he could recall nothing on it. This was presumably what Voss-Il was directing him toward. He was tempted to toss the card away and pretend it didn’t exist. With how things were going, it could be years before his quest finished. But at the same time… he couldn’t leave this unturned. Not if it could help.

And at this point, he needed all the help and guidance he could.

With a sigh, he tucked it in a pocket in his robe.

One more stop. One more. Then he was done and he would return to the Order.

He had learned enough about what the future held.

It was time to start preparing for it.

But he was not going to do it alone. The number of people he could trust was few, but this had grown beyond something he could tackle on his own. It was no use pretending he alone could save the galaxy. He needed more than to go from planet to planet, and vision to vision. There needed to be a plan, a path to start addressing what he had seen, and preempting the dark future the galaxy had in store.

Fortunately, he knew who he could rely on to help him on this quest, even as the conclusion was in sight.


End file.
